


The Trouble Boys Can Get Up To When Unsupervised

by sharkie335



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Apologies, BDSM, Biting, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bucky gets Jealous, Bucky understands consent and alcohol, Butt Plugs, Clint Barton is a smartass, Clint and Bucky finally do the negotiation they should have done at the start, Clint and Bucky really need to talk, Cock Rings, Cock Worship, Coming In Pants, Competency Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent was very different in the 40s, Crying During Sex, Cuddling, Dry Orgasm, Eventually Bucky and Clint start talking, Fingering, Fisting, Flogging, Gates of Hell, Gentle Sex, Hair Pulling, Humiliation, Intercrural Sex, Knife Play, M/M, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Natasha gets involved because of stupidity, Natasha is Clint's bro, Natasha lectures Clint into being smarter, Natasha reminds Clint that negotiations are not negotiable, Nightmares, Nipple Torture, Okay let's see what we have, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Public Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape Play, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Rough Body Play, Ruined Orgasms, Safeword Use, Service Submission, Sex Toys, Spanking, Steve and Clint have an actual conversation, Steve can be an overprotective dick, Steve has to apologize to Bucky but he really doesn't want to, Stupid misunderstandings, Suspension Bondage, Switching off, They finally admit they're boyfriends, This story is full of kink, Tops get to consent too, Uniform Kink, Wax Play, actual discussion about condoms, brief discussion of needle play, bucky and clint get off while on a mission, clint and bucky are dumbasses who don't negotiate to start, cock riding, discussion of age play, face fucking, fear as an aphrodisiac, flogging as emotional punishment, giving back some of Bucky's right to self, implications of non-consent in Bucky's background, kink checklist, more gun stupidity, pain play, post-orgasm fucking, references to winter soldier doing torture, reflections on Clint's past relationship with Phil, safewords being respected, sexual gunplay, sling sex, this story has too many feels, unsafe gun use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: Bucky and Clint discover a mutual interest in BDSM.  Then they discover a mutual interest in each other.  Over time, they discover lots of other things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS!
> 
> This has a lot of different kinks in it, and not all of them are for everyone. I will indicate in the chapter notes what kinks are present.
> 
> Written for 2018 Nanowrimo. This story is complete, and being posted two chapters at a time. 
> 
> I got help from several people from various Discord servers for this. Dap acted as cheerleader as I worked through it. IgnisAlis and AusKitty betaed it.

Clint hadn’t been back in more than two years, not since Phil had died, but as he walked through the door and paid his cover charge, it was like he’d never missed a weekend.

The woman managing the front desk smiled at him, remembered his name without being prompted, and took his money with a smile. Then she looked behind him and frowned. “Where’s Phil?” she asked.

Shit, Clint hadn’t been ready to be confronted with it right up front. He swallowed hard, the old, familiar pain a tight clench in his belly. “He, uh, he died,” he choked out. He wanted to say more, say that Phil had died a hero, but that would mean explaining more than he was ready to do. So he just accepted her condolences. Thankfully, more people were coming in behind him, so he was able to excuse himself fairly smoothly.

The first room was the bar, and he stopped to grab a beer. The bartender was familiar as well, but it was Saturday night and he was jumping, so there weren’t any other uncomfortable questions to answer. Beer in hand, he headed into the back room, the main reason that the club was set in a warehouse district instead of downtown somewhere.

There was a ton of equipment spread out over the ten thousand square feet of space - everything from massage tables to St. Andrews crosses to hard tie points for suspension bondage. A lot of the equipment was in use, and Clint wandered aimlessly, watching individual scenes for a few minutes before moving on.

He was intimately familiar with a lot of the equipment, and as he watched a particularly enthusiastic flogging, he found himself lost in memories. So when his wrist was grabbed, it surprised the hell out of him, not least because you just didn’t touch people here without permission.

Turning, he was more than a little shocked to see the familiar face of Barnes staring back at him, face set angrily. “What are you doing here?” Barnes hissed. “Are you following me?”

“The hell, Barnes?” Clint said, wrenching his wrist free. “I had no idea you were here. And you don’t touch without permission, dammit.”

The look of anger on Barnes’ face didn’t fade. “I know someone has been following me when I leave the tower,” he said. “Why should I believe you when you say it’s not you?”

Clint bit back his first response, which was to just punch Barnes in the face. Not only would it probably result in him getting beat to hell, and not in the fun way, but he’d probably also get banned from the club. Instead, he took a deep breath to get his temper under control, and said, “Look, let’s go sit down and talk about this like grown ups, okay? Unless you want us both kicked out for fighting, that is.”

Barnes didn’t look any happier about the situation, but he nodded. Clint turned his back on him and headed towards the well-appointed social area. He had fond memories of this area too - evenings spent wrapped up in Phil’s arms on one of the couches after a good scene - so instead he veered off towards the small tables and chairs off to one side. They’d be less comfortable, but also less likely to be overheard. And it wouldn’t ruin one of Clint’s treasured memories.

He sat down, and Barnes sat down at the chair next to him, leaning forward, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Clint. Clint again resisted the urge to smack Barnes and said, “Look, I know you probably are being followed; not even going to try to deny that. But _I’m_ not the one doing it. I make a lousy spy - ask Natasha. I really did come here because I like the place.”

Barnes frowned. “I’ve never seen you here before. Why not?”

Grief burned its way up Clint’s chest. “I used to come here with my partner. This is the first time I’ve come here since he died.”

At that, Barnes’ face softened a little. “Oh. Oh, um, I didn’t - “

Clint couldn’t help the small smile at that. Barnes looked so flustered at the thought that it might have been him when he was still brainwashed that it was almost touching. “No, not you. Battle of New York, that son of a bitch Loki. I know you’ve heard us talk about him - Phil?”

“Oh! You mean you and he were more than friends?” Barnes relaxed all at once, and Clint couldn’t help but notice that when he didn’t look ready to kill, he was more than a little handsome. 

“You could say that. We… well, let’s just say that if things hadn’t gone down the way they had, we’d probably be married by now. But they did, and I decided that I couldn’t mourn him forever,” Clint said. “Anyway, we used to come here to play, because it wasn’t like we could keep this kind of equipment in our apartment, so…”

Barnes nodded. “Makes sense. I just wish I knew who was following me. I mean, I get _why_. Not everyone trusts me the way that Steve does. But I can’t stand feeling like I’m being watched all the time.”

“You know,” Clint said, “if you got to know the rest of us, it would help. You isolate yourself from everyone but Steve and Sam, and the rest of us have no idea what’s going on in your head. For instance, I don’t even know why you’d come _here_. It’s a gay club, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Barnes rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Barton, how oblivious do you people think I am? I _know_ it’s a gay club. It’s _why_ I came here.”

Clint felt his eyes widen in surprise. “You’re gay?”

“I think the term these days is bi?” Barnes said. “But I like this club better than the het club I tried, and it’s better about security and subtlety than they were. And playing with guys is easier anyway.”

“I get that. So, you got a date coming?” Clint asked. This was possibly the most conversation he’d ever had with the guy, and now that they were actually talking, he didn’t really want them to stop.

“Nah. That’s the other thing I like. I usually have pretty good odds of getting some pick up play. What about you? Got a hot date coming, Barton?”

Clint grinned. “That’s definitely true. No, I don’t have a date coming. And it’s Clint, by the way. I mostly just planned on hanging out, maybe seeing some of the people that I knew from when Phil and I used to come.”

“Then call me Bucky. You into topping or bottoming?”

“Eh, I’m flexible,” Clint said. “I can top if someone wants me to, but I tend towards bottoming. I love a good scene. What about you?”

Bucky’s face flashed through a series of emotions almost too fast to name. “I used to… well, that was a long time ago. These days, I top. I like the control it gives me.”

“Oh, really? You top and you don’t have a date. I bottom and I don’t have a date. Want to give it a try?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow and ran his eyes down Clint, clearly giving him a once over. Clint could feel the heat in his cheeks that meant he was flushing at the obvious look. “Depends - what are you in the mood for?”

“I didn’t bring any of my toys,” Clint said with a shrug. “You got anything?”

“Nah. Usually, the people I play with have brought their own stuff,” Bucky said with frown.

“Well, there are things we can do that require no toys at all,” Clint pointed out. “You could do impact, just using your hand. You’d have to watch the strength - I don’t want to explain broken ribs - but it could be fun.”

“Teach me how to suck eggs,” Bucky said. “I know how to rein it in, Clint. Sure, why the hell not?”

“Then let’s do this thing,” Clint said, draining his beer and standing up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough body play

Bucky had been trying to put his fight with Steve out of his mind when he saw Clint at the club. He loved Steve like a brother, but Jesus, he was worse than any mother hen that Bucky had ever met. Bad enough that Steve apparently knew that Bucky was going out to hook up. If he ever found out that Bucky was going to BDSM clubs, Steve was going to lock him up and never let him out again.

It didn’t take long for Clint to convince him that he really wasn’t following Bucky, though. The man didn’t seem to have any sort of actual poker face, and Bucky found himself _wanting_ to believe him. 

When Clint suggested a scene, he had to admit that the idea definitely had appeal. Clint had a hell of a body, and Bucky knew from having been in more than one fight with the guy that he could take a hell of a lot - more than the average guy at the club.

He’d still have to be careful, of course, but less so than usual.

When Clint got up from the table, Bucky followed. Clint tossed his beer bottle and headed over to one of the crosses. “This work for you?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, I can work with this. You want to strip out of some of those clothes?”

Clint smiled, and started to strip down, folding each piece carefully and setting it on a nearby chair. It didn’t seem to match what Bucky knew of Clint from Steve, so he saw someone else’s hand in it - maybe his previous partner. Either way, it was a pleasure to see such an attractive body come into view. 

A little surprisingly, Clint continued right down until he was bare. Bucky gave him another once over, this time noticing the scars that littered Clint’s body, as well as a lovely looking cock that was starting to fill. When his eyes returned to Clint’s face, Clint gave him a knowing look. “Like what you see?” 

“Not bad,” Bucky allowed, his mouth a bit dry. “So, any no-go areas?”

Clint laughed a little, a carefree sound that Bucky admired. “If you’d hit it to drop me? Probably shouldn’t punch it. So, no kidney shots, no punching me in the solar plexus, don’t rack me in the balls. Start with an open hand on my upper back and ass, see where that takes us. Don’t be afraid to put some force behind it. I can take it.”

Bucky ran his eyes over Clint again, this time with more calculation. There wasn’t a lot of spare flesh as padding, but his back and shoulders were heavy with muscle. Yeah, he should be able to take quite a bit there. “You'll tell me if you need me to stop?" When Clint nodded, he said, "Okay, so turn around and grab some wood, then.”

Clint started to turn, then paused and said, “Don’t you want to take some of that off?”

It took Bucky a second to realize that Clint was referring to the fact that he was still wearing his leather jacket and gloves. Most of the people he’d picked up hadn’t cared, and he didn’t want to put the arm on display, but he was wearing a long sleeve T, so he stripped the jacket off, and as an afterthought pulled off the glove that he had on his flesh and blood hand. He wasn’t going to be using the metal hand, so he left that one on.

Flashing him a grin that on someone else Bucky would call naughty, Clint turned around and wrapped his arms around one of the uprights of the cross. It brought all of the muscles of his back into sharp relief, and Bucky felt like he was drooling a little at getting to put his hands on that.

While he knew logically that Clint wasn’t some sort of fainting flower, he still pulled his first slap, no more than a firm, fleeting pressure that was more sound than anything else. Clint pulled away from the cross and turned around to glare at Bucky. “Jesus Christ, Bucky - I’m not going to break. Use some actual force, or I’m going to get bored pretty fucking fast.”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky said. “I get it.”

With another glare, Clint turned back around and gripped the cross again. This time, when Bucky slapped his shoulder blade, he put some actual force behind it, and was rewarded with a grunt and a “That’s more like it,” from Clint.

Well, okay, then. Bucky started to slap and hit Clint on the shoulders and upper back, not at full force, but with enough that each blow left a red mark. As he built up, he was hitting him harder, each blow causing Clint to sway in place, stopped only by the cross. By the time his whole upper back was red, Clint was breathing hard, and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

Bucky paused. He’d learned the first time here that it was important to check in regularly. “You doing okay, there?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Clint said, his voice a low groan. “My ass - do my ass next.”

More than willing to oblige, Bucky started spanking Clint with intent, wanting more of those sweet sounds from him. Pretty soon, Clint was practically humping the cross in time to each hard slap from Bucky. He was tempted to see if he could go further - public sex was definitely okay here - but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to go that far with someone that he might see in the kitchen tomorrow. “God, you are fucking gorgeous right now,” Bucky said, resting his hand on the hot skin of Clint’s ass and pressing up close. 

“Thanks,” Clint said, pressing back. “You’re pretty good at that, once you remember that I’m a fucking Avenger.”

Bucky laughed. It was easy to be like this with Clint, easier than he would have imagined being with any of Steve’s new team. Some of that was the clearly common interest they had, but Bucky had the stray thought that maybe he _had_ been isolating himself too much.

Ah, why the hell was he thinking about this now? Much better to focus on the here and now. “You good, Clint?” he asked, his voice a low purr. “Or you want some more?”

“What, did I wear you out already?” Clint asked, but his voice was rough and his grip on the cross was practically white-knuckled, like it was the only thing holding him up.

Running his hand up Clint’s ass and back to his shoulder, he pulled gently. “Hey, turn around for a minute, okay?” 

Clint followed the direction, but his eyes were a bit unfocused, his balance unsteady, and Bucky grinned. The fact that Clint was in subspace couldn’t have been any clearer if it had been tattooed on his forehead. “I think we’re going to stop now,” Bucky said, making his voice firm. 

“No,” Clint said, his voice practically a whine. “I like it. I can take more.”

“You probably think that,” Bucky said. “But you’re going to regret it tomorrow if I don’t stop.” Something else he’d figured out since he’d started coming here - being a responsible top meant that people were willing to come back for more. And he kinda wanted Clint to want to come back.

“Fine,” Clint said, but his voice made him sound like a sulky little kid. Bucky ignored that and steered him over to a chair. Putting down a disposable cloth, he sat Clint down, and his suspicions were confirmed when Clint winced. Grinning, he patted Clint on the shoulder. “Stay here,” he said, and turned his attention to cleaning the cross.

Wiping it down wasn’t difficult, but it was something else that he’d learned was expected here. Once that was done, he went back to Clint, who was looking a little more focused in the here and now. “How you doing there, Champ?” he asked.

“Feeling great,” Clint said looking more relaxed than he’d looked before they’d started. Bucky definitely felt that way as well. “I guess I need to get dressed, huh?”

“Probably,” he said. “But we can take a few minutes to relax so that you don’t fall over on your face in the process.”

“I never fall over,” Clint said, but his attempt to sound offended fell far short of the mark. Bucky fought the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Sure, Clint. Sure.” Without saying anything else, he sat down next to Clint, not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsafe gunplay (in a non-sexual sense), blowjobs, facefucking

Clint stood in the armory, shooting arrow after arrow. This wasn’t practice in any sense of the word - shooting targets that weren’t moving, even at the maximum distance allowed by the basement range, was so easy that it was laughable. But it was good exercise, kept him loose and ready to go if there was a call out.

And honestly, it kept the endorphins going that he’d started three nights earlier. He hadn’t gone to the club expecting to scene with anyone, much less Captain America’s best friend, but he was glad he had. It had been amazing.

It would have been better if he’d seen Bucky since, but as far as he could tell, Bucky hadn’t left the floor he shared with Steve and Sam since. Ah, fuck it, he’d either see him or he wouldn’t; they’d either see other again or they wouldn’t. No point in tying himself into knots about it.

The light at the end of the range changed color, indicating that someone was coming through the antechamber. Tony had installed it after he’d accidentally startled Natasha, and had to dodge a hail of gunfire before she realized who it was. So when the door opened, Clint just yelled out, “Hey,” and sent another arrow downrange.

“Hey,” came the last voice that Clint expected, and he practically dropped his bow in shock as Bucky came up to his side in his peripheral vision. “Um, I can go if I’m going to bother you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, making sure that Bucky could see him. “Unless you’re planning on shooting me instead of targets, it’s good. Let me just get a set of ear protection if you’re going to use a gun.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, and Clint set down his bow, going to the stand at the back of the room and getting out the kit he used when he was sharing the range. While he was there, he glanced at Bucky’s back, noticing how stiffly he was holding himself, and realized that he was probably worried that Clint was going to get overly clingy or something. 

Clint had actually liked Bucky, even without the great scene, and he really wanted to get to know him better. That wasn’t going to happen, though, unless Bucky started to unclench. So, ear protectors in hand, he went over to Bucky instead of back to his own lane. “Hey,” he said, trying to find words. Phil had been so good at this, always knowing what Clint was thinking and feeling, but for this he was on his own.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, turning to look at Clint full on. Clint hadn’t realized how pretty his eyes were, but this was hardly the time to comment on it. 

“Look, if the other night was weird, that’s fine. But I… I really had a good time. Maybe we can do it again? Or even just hang out some? It’s got to get boring spending all your time with Steve and Sam.” Clint floundered a bit, trying to think of something else to say, something that might make Bucky want to spend time with him.

Bucky gave him a shy smile. “Yeah? I had a good time too.” And then he gave a low chuckle. “And yeah, it gets boring to have Steve up my ass all the time. It would be good to have somewhere to go that isn’t our floor.”

Clint couldn’t help it. He cracked up. “Steve goes up your ass? Does he fit?”

Reaching out, Bucky gave him a sharp smack on the shoulder. “You’re a smart ass.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” Clint said. “Everyone else on the team has known this for years. About time you caught on, too.”

“Fine, you’re a smart ass and I’m late to the show. I get it. We can hang out sometime.”

Clint felt good - he’d successfully navigated making a friend that wasn’t initiated by either Natasha, Phil, or someone being an active Avenger, since Bucky sat out most of the small battles, and the larger ones he stuck with Sam and Steve.

“Great,” he said. “So, target practice or something else?”

“Eh,” Bucky said. “Not really challenging down here. But practice is practice.”

Clint grinned. “Yeah, Tony’s supposed to be working on something that’s better for people who don’t need straight shots, but for now this is what we’ve got.”

Bucky got a wicked little smile on his face. “So, let’s do something more challenging. There are ten lanes, right? Let’s set a timer and see which of us can get more bullseyes in more targets - guns versus bow.”

“That actually sounds like fun.” Clint thought for a minute. “Let’s make it even more difficult - neither of us can shoot more than one time at a time at any one lane, and we can’t just go to the next lane over - we have to skip at least one in between.”

“Strategy, I like it,” Bucky said. He pulled his gun out, and checked the clip, and then reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a handful of other clips. “Given this ammo - let’s say five minutes?”

“You’re on, gun boy,” Clint said, going to get his bow and his quiver. He then went and grabbed the supplemental quiver kept with his stuff, and strapped them together. Lastly, he put his ear protection around his neck. “JARVIS, did you hear the rules of the game?”

“Yes, Agent Barton,” JARVIS said. "Will it do any good for me to voice the fact that this game sounds unsafe in the extreme?"

"Oh, we got it," Bucky said. "I know how _not_ to shoot too."

"Yeah," Clint echoed. "Besides, I did worse in the circus. At least I'm not swinging around on a trapeze."

Bucky laughed a little at that, and JARVIS gave what sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “Shall I flash the lights at the front of the room when the time is up?”

“Yeah. Flash it if either of us break the rules, too,” Bucky said. Then he smiled at Clint wolfishly, all teeth. “Not that I think you’d cheat, but just in case.”

“Right,” Clint said, drawing it out and rolling his eyes. “Time begins when we both have ear protection on and we’re in a lane, JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Clint moved to the lane next to Bucky, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then put his ear protection into place. Immediately, the light flashed, and Clint pulled an arrow and fired in one smooth move. He barely watched it land before he was moving over two lanes, and firing again. 

The next several minutes were a complicated ballet of the two of them moving around the room and firing over and over again. Somehow, they managed to never be in the same lane at the same time. Slowly but surely, though, each of the targets were getting shredded by a combination of bullets and arrows. 

By the time the light flashed at the front of the room, there was no question of checking to see if either of them had missed the bullseye - they were all absolutely shredded in the center. They stood together, studying the results in one of the lanes, staring at the target.

“I mean, I can go down and manually count arrows in each lane,” Clint said. “But I don’t know how we’d track your bullets.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “They’re basically all over the floor at this point.”

“If you don’t mind, gentlemen, I may be able to provide the data you need?” JARVIS said, definitely sounding amused. Clint knew that JARVIS could be a sarcastic son of a bitch when he wanted to be, so the amusement wasn’t a surprise to him, but Bucky definitely looked a little befuddled by it. 

“Sure, JARVIS,” Clint said. “Hit us.”

“The question was how many targets each of you could hit in the given time period, correct? Would an average be acceptable?”

“Makes sense,” Bucky said. 

“Agent Barton, you averaged 7 arrows per target. Sergeant Barnes, you averaged 8 bullets per target. By the rules of the game, I believe Sergeant Barnes has won the game.”

A wide smile spread across Bucky’s face. “Hah!” he exclaimed. “I knew guns were faster.”

“If you two would care to view the footage for any reason, it has been stored to your personal servers. I will say that based on my brief analysis, it wasn’t actually the rate of fire that made the difference, but rather that Sergeant Barnes moved between lanes faster.” JARVIS sounded satisfied, and Clint supposed he couldn’t really blame him. That kind of analysis would have taken Clint days of rewatching the footage to get to.

“So I guess you’re faster than I am. Wonder what I could do with that information,” Clint mused out loud.

“You know, we never agreed to what the winner would get,” Bucky said, and his voice was low, rough. “Got any ideas?”

The tone of his voice went straight to Clint’s balls, no detour past his brain involved. “I have a few thoughts, maybe?”

“Oh? I wonder if they overlap?” Bucky’s hand drifted down to his fly. Not saying outright, but implying heavily, and it was an implication that Clint was more than willing to roll with.

“How about a blowjob?” Clint asked. It seemed like a good idea - after all, Bucky had seen _him_ naked already.

“I think I could go for that,” Bucky said. “But maybe a kiss?” 

“Oh, yeah.” As far as Clint was concerned, that was enough talking. He moved into Bucky’s space, watching for any indication that he was getting uncomfortable, but instead Bucky just licked his lips, his eyes fastened on Clint’s mouth.

Clint leaned forward, pressing his lips against Bucky’s for a moment. After a second where nothing really happened, he realized that he was waiting for Bucky to take control of the kiss the way that Phil used to. He pulled away, cursing under his breath. It had been two years - was he never going to get over this? 

Before he could go too far down that rabbit hole, though, Bucky gave him a soft look, as if he could hear Clint's thoughts in his head. This time, Bucky's hand came up to cup Clint's chin, turning his head slightly, and it was Bucky who leaned in. The kiss wasn't gentle - it was too carnal to be called gentle - but it wasn't rough either. It was lips and tongues and teeth, taking possession of Clint's mouth in a way that hadn't happened in far too long, but different enough that Clint never forgot that this wasn't Phil kissing him. 

When Bucky released his hold on Clint's chin, pulling his mouth away from Clint's with a soft sound, Clint took advantage of his closeness to lean his forehead against Bucky's shoulder, and only then did he realize that Bucky was several inches taller than Phil had been. That helped cement the difference in his head as well. 

But he didn't want to think about it and he sure as shit didn't want to _talk_ about it, so instead he slowly slid to his knees, running his hands down Bucky's chest as he went. Before he undid Bucky's pants, Clint pressed his face against the bulge there, breathing deeply. He could smell laundry detergent and sweat and the musk of Bucky's arousal. 

Freeing Bucky's erection, he didn't hesitate. He just leaned in and ran his tongue up from Bucky's balls to the tip, tasting precome and heat. Bucky groaned above him, and Clint got a devilish idea. 

Looking up at Bucky, he deliberately took the head of his cock into his mouth - and _just_ the head. Then he reached out and grabbed Bucky's right hand, and put it on top of Clint's head. And then he waited. 

He didn't have to wait long for Bucky to figure out the message he was sending, because Bucky curled his fingers around the back of Clint's skull and started to push his cock forward, deeper into Clint's mouth. He paused when the head of his cock was just at the entrance to Clint's throat, and when Clint groaned, he pushed forward even further, lodging the tip of his cock into Clint's throat. 

It cut off Clint's air, but Clint didn't care. It was a cock in his mouth, fucking his face, and he knew exactly what to do with that. So he sucked and licked as Bucky slowly but surely fucked his mouth like it was all his to take any time he wanted. His hand tightened around the back of Clint's head, and Clint had a quick thought that maybe longer hair might be worth it if it gave Bucky a handhold, before Bucky suddenly started moving faster, harder, deeper. 

All Clint could really do was hold himself steady and take what Bucky was giving him, and fuck, this was so good. As he started to get lightheaded, Clint couldn't help but reach down and touch himself through his pants. He meant to just rearrange his cock, but Bucky groaned and said, "Yeah, take it out. Jerk off for me." 

Clint didn't need to be told twice, so he practically ripped out his fly trying to get to bare skin, and as soon as he did, his hand was moving. It was hard to focus on both the cock in his mouth and the one in his hand, but Bucky was doing all the moving up top, so he just let it happen as his hand flew over his own cock. 

Suddenly, Bucky grunted and bent practically double, pushing his cock even further down Clint's throat. Clint could feel him coming, but could barely taste it, he was in so deep, and letting go of his own cock, he focused on swallowing around Bucky's, trying to draw out his orgasm and make it as good for him as possible. 

Finally Bucky let go of Clint's head and pulled his cock out of Clint's mouth. Clint looked up at him, aware that he probably looked utterly fucked out, and if the look on Bucky's face meant anything, then it was a look that he really liked. Bucky's thumb traced a line down Clint's face to the corner of his mouth and then pushed inside. "Come on, Clint. Come for me." 

Clint sucked on the thumb on his mouth - a poor substitute for the cock that had been there just moments before - and moved his hand fast and steady. Bucky didn't say anything else, but his eyes were locked on Clint's, almost as if he was challenging Clint not to look away. So Clint stared at him until his orgasm hit him with all the subtlety of a train, forcing him to close his eyes as it pushed through him. He groaned in relief as he sagged against Bucky's legs. "God, that was good," Bucky said, pulling his thumb out of Clint's mouth. 

"Yeah," Clint said. "The blowjob was pretty good too." 

Bucky smacked Clint across the back of the head, and then held out his hand to pull Clint to his feet. "If I'm going to hang out with you, I'm just going to have to get used to the smartass part, aren't I?" 

"Yep, no hope of changing that now," Clint said. He looked around for a rag or something to clean up the floor, and then realized that his come was actually all over his shirt. "Aw, dammit," he said, pulling it off carefully so as not to get it in his hair. "So, maybe we can go out sometime?" 

"Supervillains permitting, I don't see why not," Bucky said, and the two of them left the armory. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flogging (as self-punishment)

Bucky decided that he was going to make an effort to socialize more. Steve seemed thrilled at Bucky's change of heart, walking him to dinner and the movie nights like he was afraid that without an escort Bucky might change his mind. 

While a few people were a little standoffish - Tony seemed particularly nervous around him - no one refused to be in the room with him or insisted on being armed. And as the next few days passed, everyone seemed to relax even more. When Tony teased him about the shooting match he'd had with Clint, he felt like he'd accomplished something, like he'd gotten a little more of himself back from where HYDRA had stolen it away all those years ago.

Clint's behavior was a little confusing to Bucky, though. He didn't hold back - teasing Bucky just like he teased Steve, Sam, and Tony - but he didn't seem to act like there was anything special between the two of them either. If it wasn't for the video that Bucky had found in his server (which had included the blowjob - which he'd clarified with JARVIS was only on his and Clint's versions), he would have started to think that he'd imagined the whole thing.

Today was Friday. He wanted to go out, go to the club, get some adrenaline going that wasn't linked to a fight. He thought about checking to see if Clint wanted to go, but when he finally got up the gumption to go to Clint's door, there was no answer to his knock. Well, fuck.

Wasn't like they'd promised to be faithful to each other - they'd played once, he gotten one blowjob. He could go to the club and see if he could find someone else to play with. Yeah, that's what he'd do. Clint was fun, and he'd not turn down the option for another round, but he wasn't going to sit at home and rot just because Clint had gone somewhere and not told Bucky. To be honest, he was probably out doing something for SHIELD, because now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Clint all day.

He waited until Steve was in the shower to leave. Steve wouldn’t stop him, but there would be questions and concerns and Steve’s worried face, and Bucky didn’t want to deal with any of it. Sam watched him go out the door, but all he said was “Watch your back,” and then he was free.

Checking to make sure that his glove was in place, he got on the subway, taking it to the PATH station so that he could hop the green line to Hoboken. From the other end of the line, he grabbed an Uber, and in less than ninety minutes he was at the front door of the club.

One of the twinks was manning the door when he got there. He’d apparently made an impression on his previous visits, because he wasn’t asked for ID this time. He just had to pay his cover charge, and then he was inside. 

At the bar was Clint, ordering a drink.

Bucky’s first reaction was a burning anger. Why hadn’t Clint told him he was coming? Was he meeting someone else? Had Clint decided he wasn’t good enough or something?

Then Clint turned and saw Bucky, and his face positively lit up. Faced with Clint’s obvious happiness to see him, Bucky couldn’t help but relax a little bit. Walking up next to Clint, he said, “So, I didn’t expect to see you tonight. I stopped by your apartment, but there wasn’t any answer.”

Clint sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been out most of the day. First it was another fucking evaluation at SHI - work, and then I went to the storage unit that I rented after Phil died.”

Bucky caught Clint’s slip of being at SHIELD, but he didn’t blame him. While he doubted everyone was ignorant of just exactly who Clint was, Bucky could certainly understand not wanting to talk about it with the people at the club. Besides, the second part was more concerning. Bucky remembered the day that the Smithsonian had returned Steve’s and his stuff from the war - that had been a terrible day. “You okay? That must have been tough.”

“It wasn’t great,” was all Clint said, but his voice was rough, his eyes shiny with what looked like unshed tears. “But it was time, you know? There was a lot of stuff there that had just been crammed in until I could deal with it, and honestly, most of it just needed to go to Goodwill. So, it’s been sorted, Goodwill is coming on Monday, and most of the stuff I decided to keep is going to be delivered to the tower that night.”

Bucky cocked his head. “Most?” he asked.

That got a smile from Clint, who tipped his head to gesture towards a large duffel bag on the floor. “Yeah, there was some stuff that I didn’t want to trust to movers. And honestly, I was kind of hoping that you’d be here tonight, because you might want to go through that bag with me?”

Something warm filled Bucky’s chest. If he was reading the situation right, these had been the things that Clint had used with Phil, and Clint was willing to share them with Bucky. This could be a very good thing.

“Sure, we could do that,” Bucky said. “Just let me get a beer.” The bartender overheard him, and was putting down a local microbrew on the bar within moments. Clint snorted and held up his bottle of Miller. “What, good old fashioned American beer too good for you?”

“That stuff’s shit, Barton,” Bucky said. “This stuff at least has flavor other than hops.”

“Jesus, you sound just like Tony,” Clint said, his mouth screwed up in distaste. “He whines that I’m polluting his sacred refrigerator with my beer.”

That was a terrifying thought, that he might have anything in common with Tony. But Bucky couldn’t really blame him for not wanting Clint’s swill in the common fridge - what if the rest of the beer caught the taste?

“Besides, weren’t you a poor kid?” Clint asked. “Where’d you get all fancy with beer?”

Bucky snorted. “You got my history mixed up with Steve’s. He was poorer than a church mouse. My family wasn’t _rich_ , but we had enough money to get by. But mostly, I discovered good beer when I came in from the cold, and realized that that crap wasn’t worth the bottles it came in.”

Clint stuck out his tongue at Bucky, and Bucky cracked up. “Real mature, Clint. Come on, show me what you have in that bag - the suspense is killing me.”

Chuckling, Clint bent over and picked up the bag from the floor, and from the way that the muscles in his arm bunched and shifted it was clearly heavier than it looked at first glance. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he grabbed his bottle off the bar and gestured towards the back room. “Let’s go grab some seats on one of the sofas, and we can go through this.”

“Go on, then,” Bucky said, and grabbing his own beer, followed him through the black curtain to the back room.

There was a slight hitch in Clint’s step as they approached the seating area, but he recovered quickly enough that Bucky decided not to ask. There were a few more people scattered around than last time, but one of the sofas was open. Clint sat down at one end and swung the bag on to the middle cushion, leaving the other end for Bucky, who sat down and then twisted around so that he was facing Clint.

“So, this is stuff I wanted to keep, but they're also things that is way too easily identifiable as kink-related. I’ve also got a couple of boxes of stuff back at the tower already, stuff that went there when I moved in. If you see something interesting, let me know. If you don’t want to do something, that’s fine too.”

“I’m not some sort of nancy,” Bucky said. “I doubt you have anything I can’t handle in there.”

“Eh, everyone has different interests,” Clint said, unzipping the bag and starting to systematically pull things out and lay them down for Bucky to look at.

There were a ton of different floggers - everything from fine elastic ones to heavy suede and everything in between. There were paddles and straps and crops and canes and rope - a _lot_ of rope, in multiple colors and thicknesses. There were a few different sex toys - butt plugs and cock rings and one very intriguing piece made up of a series of metal rings, connected by leather straps. And still, Clint kept pulling stuff out - things that Bucky couldn’t even begin to identify.

When the bag was finally empty, Bucky looked at the small mountain and said, “Wow. That’s… impressive?”

Clint laughed a little. “Yeah. Phil never met a sex toy that he didn’t fall in love with in moments, and he liked to change things up all the time. I rarely knew what I was in for any given day. But it made for a fun time.”

“I bet.” Bucky reached out and ran a hand over the leather of one of the paddles. “I’m pretty sure I can handle most of this. If you had to pick one thing to do tonight, what would it be?”

Clint didn’t even hesitate. He just reached out and picked up the heaviest of the floggers. “This,” he said.

Bucky took it, and was unsurprised that it was just as heavy as it looked. “This, huh? We going for punishment or something?”

Biting his lip, Clint nodded at the same time that he shrugged. “Maybe a little? I just… today _really_ sucked.”

“Sounds like.” Bucky thought about it for a moment. He knew the impulse to be punished, even for things that weren’t his fault. At the same time, he didn’t want to _injure_ Clint, either physically or emotionally. Steve would never let him out of the tower again if he did. “Tell you what - I’ll use that, but pick a couple of lighter ones to warm you up with first.”

Clint looked mutinous. “I can handle it, Bucky,” he said. “If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have asked for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it,” Bucky said. “And I get it, I really do. But I’m not into hurting people just to hurt them. Not anymore, not by choice. If that’s what you want, I’m sure there’s someone else here who’ll oblige.”

“Fine,” Clint huffed. “I don’t want to spend all evening finding someone else. How about this - you use that flogger, and I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

“You’re not only a smart ass. You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, too,” Bucky said. “Fine. But I’m not starting off at full force - whether you admit it or not, you need warm up.”

“Since when do you channel Phil?” Clint asked. “Fine, agreed. Let me bag the rest of this stuff up, and we’ll go use that one.”

Bucky nodded, and sat back to finish his beer as Clint quickly but carefully packed up the toys spread across the couch. Once they were all back in the bag, Clint picked up his bottle and drained it in one go. “Ready?” he asked, and when Bucky nodded, he stood up and picked up the bag, leaving the flogger to Bucky, who got up and followed him.

The cross that they’d used the other night was in use, but there was a whipping post right in the middle of the room that was free. Clint stopped at it, looking up at the hook that was hanging above his head. “How would you feel about using some of that rope to tie me to this?”

“I think I can manage that,” Bucky said. 

Clint set down the bag. “Go ahead and pull out one of the pieces of black rope - they’re the shortest and all you have to do is secure my hands.” As Bucky started to dig in the bag, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Clint started to strip down, once again showing the neatness that seemed so out of place with Clint’s personality. There wasn’t a nearby chair, but his clothes were still folded and placed on the other side of the post, where they would be out of the way.

Grabbing the neatly bundled length of rope, he undid the slip knot holding it together and shook it out. He knew that there were all sorts of special knots used in bondage work but he figured for this a bowline would do just fine to secure Clint’s hands. “Stand there,” he said, pointing at a spot on the floor a few feet away, and as Clint moved to obey, he tied the rope to the eyebolt on the post and pulled as hard as he could to make sure it would hold.

Once he was certain that it wouldn’t give, he looked over at Clint and said, “Okay, over here. Hands up and together.”

As soon as Clint was in position, he looped the rope around his wrists, twisting and securing it so that it would hold Clint firmly without tightening past where he wanted it. Once it was done, he said, “Pull. As hard as you can.” Clint obeyed silently, the muscles in his back and arms springing into sharp relief as he did so.

There was part of Bucky that thought that it was still hot. And then there was the part that was questioning whether he should really be doing this, and that kept him focused on what he was doing right now.

As soon as he was sure that Clint wasn’t going to accidentally cut off circulation to his own hands or get loose unexpectedly, Bucky stepped up close, curling around Clint’s back, his hands resting on Clint’s wrists, his hips up snug against Clint’s ass. 

Clint was twitching like a nervous horse, panting a little, and Bucky had to ask. “You still want this, Clint? We can do something else.”

He got his answer when Clint twisted his head around so that he could press his mouth against the side of Bucky’s neck, giving it a sloppy kiss. “Come on, Bucky. Give it to me. Don’t you want to?”

A bolt of lust shot straight to Bucky’s cock. Clint may have started this with wanting to be punished, but that wasn’t what was in his voice now. Now it was just want and need, and Bucky could work with that.

Before he stepped back, he bit down lightly at the junction of Clint’s neck and shoulder, right where the collar of his uniform rested when he was geared up. In his arms, Clint shivered harder and gave a soft groan. Slowly, he released his grip, making sure that Clint was steady and flat-footed before he let go completely.

Turning, he picked up the flogger from where it rested next to the bag. It was heavier than the other floggers he’d used on different people before he’d started playing with Clint, but the principles were the same, he was sure. Even still, he swung it a few times into the air to see how it moved, before stepping away from Clint and beginning.

The first few strokes were light, just the tips of the flogger brushing against Clint’s shoulders. This time, there was no complaining from Clint, just a settling of his stance as he waited.

Gradually he built up the force, each stroke a little harder than the one before it, until he was hitting with enough force to rock Clint with each blow. Clint stayed mostly silent, only the occasional hiss or grunt escaping as Bucky continued to hit him. 

Bucky shifted around just enough that he could get a good look at Clint’s face, and Clint was biting his lip so hard that it was white where his teeth were digging in. This would never do - Bucky needed honest feedback to make sure that Clint wasn’t just enduring to prove he could - whether to Bucky or to Clint himself.

Letting the flogger slide to the floor, he moved close to Clint, bracketing him once again. “Clint, did Phil make you stay silent when he was flogging you?” he asked. There was the possibility that this was a learned behavior, but Bucky didn’t think it was.

Clint shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Bucky tried again. “Do you think I’m going to stop if you make noise?”

“Maybe?” Clint’s voice was soft and unsure, and Bucky didn’t like it at all. 

“I promise, I’m not going to stop just because you make noise, Clint. I’m not going to stop until either you tell me to or I decide that your back can’t take any more. Okay? So make some noise - yell, tell me I’m a bastard, cry. Do whatever you need to do to let this help you. I’m not going to judge.”

“I’m not going to cry, man,” Clint said, but his voice was still unsure. 

“Uh, huh,” Bucky said. “Do you have any idea how many men I’ve seen cry when they’re being flogged here? Isn’t anything wrong with it. Endorphins do crazy things to people.” So does cleaning out a dead partner’s things, he thought to himself. If anyone deserved a chance to cry, right now it was Clint. “If you’re going to keep yourself from letting go, I’m going to stop, because neither of us are going to get anything out of this otherwise.”

“Fine,” Clint said, but his voice was stronger, more sure, and that made Bucky feel better as well. “I won’t hold back.”

“Good.” With that, Bucky stepped back, picked up the flogger, and let it fly without giving Clint any warning.

This time, Clint’s reaction was better. He gave a sharp grunt, swaying where he stood. The next blow got a groan, and the one after that got a short yell.

By the time Clint’s back was starting to darken with shadows of bruises, Clint was yelling almost continuously. True to his word, though, he hadn’t started crying. They’d attracted an audience, and Bucky could hear soft comments being exchanged, but didn’t bother to focus enough to try hear what was actually being said.

He gave one last hit, the hardest yet, and then dropped the flogger to move forward and grip Clint in a tight hold. Clint was breathing hard, sweat pouring off of him, but his stance was still firm, his skin less twitchy. “I think you’re done, Clint,” Bucky said. “You did so good, but you’re done now.”

“I can take more,” Clint said, but his words were more than a little slurred. 

“Yeah, we’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said with a light laugh. “You _think_ you can take more. But I can see your back, and I’m telling you you’re done. I’m not hitting you again -” Clint started to say something, and Bucky barreled right over it, “and I’m not letting anyone else hit you either.”

Clint took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and the last of the tension in his body melted away with it. Bucky found himself supporting a fair amount of Clint's weight as he leaned back into Bucky, but he didn't mind. It felt good, to be the supporter instead of the supported. 

He held Clint for a little while, until he was breathing smoothly and seemed a little more focused, and then Bucky urged him back up so that he could untie the rope holding up Clint's hands. As they dropped, Clint swore. "Motherfucker, that stings," he said, shaking them out.

"They go to sleep?" Bucky asked.

"Just a little," Clint said. "But you know - hands above the head for a long time always hurts when they come down."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. He took Clint's right hand between his own and started to rub, using the time to check to make sure there wasn't any injury to his wrist from the rope. There were faint marks, but no rope burn, no bruising, and as he continued to massage, Clint groaned. "Jesus, don't stop," Clint said.

"Or what?" Bucky asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. The whole evening had been a lot more serious than he'd really been ready to deal with.

"Or I won't blow you," Clint said. He met Bucky's eyes, his eyes shining with amusement and contentment, both of which Bucky was happy to see. Then the words sunk in, and he groaned. The scene hadn't been the turn on that he usually got from them - it had been too emotional for that - but he had fond memories of what Clint could do with his mouth, and he was certainly interested in a repeat performance.

"Your other hand need to be rubbed?" Bucky asked, and even he could hear how turned on he sounded, his voice deep and breathy.

"Nah," Clint said. "I think I have a better idea." He pulled his hand out of Bucky's grip, and ducked around the whipping post to pick up his clothes. He handed them to Bucky, and then picked up the rope, flogger, and duffel bag. "Follow me," he said, and Bucky, a little mystified, did as he asked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cock worship, deepthroating, handjobs, crying after sex

Clint led his way over to the CBT chair, which was thankfully unoccupied. Setting down the bag against the wall, he gestured towards the chair. "Well?" he said.

"Uh..." Bucky looked around a little wildly, as if Clint wasn't being perfectly obvious in where Clint wanted him. "I, uh, I'm not into that sort of thing."

Rolling his eyes, Clint said, "It wouldn't be very grateful of me to _hurt_ your cock after you gave me such a good flogging. But if you take your pants off and sit down, I can really give you one hell of a blowjob. In this chair, I'll be able to get to _everything_."

"Oh, _really_?" Bucky arched his eyebrow and his hands went to his belt buckle. Clint watched with satisfaction as Bucky undid his pants and, after stepping out of his shoes, pushing them down and off. Naked from the waist down, he hesitated for a moment.

It was a little odd, to see someone with no pants but wearing a long sleeve t and gloves. But the metal arm would attract more attention than the unconventional clothing, so Clint just pointed at the chair. "Go on, then. Unless you don't want to see what I can do with my mouth?"

"You know, you're talking this up, like you're really impressive," Bucky said as he got settled. "You going to be able to live up to it?"

"Oh, it is _on_ ," Clint said. He grabbed the small stool that was designed to let someone sit between the chair occupant's legs, and pulled it between Bucky's. He hadn't bothered to dress after the flogging, so he draped it in a disposable cloth, sat down, and rolled in close.

Bucky wasn't all the way hard yet, but that was just fine. It gave Clint more room to play. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth and swallowed Bucky's cock all the way down to the root. 

It wasn't as impressive as it would be in a few minutes, since Bucky was still a little flaccid, but Bucky's low sound - not quite a groan - was a turn on. Clint hummed softly, running his tongue around as much of Bucky's cock as he could. It was quickly getting harder, and Clint was fascinated to realize that he could _feel_ Bucky's foreskin sliding back as he became fully aroused.

Clint focused on keeping it as simple and smooth as he could for several minutes, only sucking the top few inches, lulling Bucky into a false sense of thinking he knew what to expect. Then, when he felt the muscles in Bucky's legs on either side of his face relax, he took a deep breath, pulled back, and then sank down, taking Bucky's cock in all the way down. The head of his cock was lodged firmly in Clint's throat, and for just a second he had to fight his gag reflex. Too long since he'd been giving regular blowjobs, he guessed.

Bucky's gasp was rewarding, and Bucky's hands on his head weren't unexpected, given that last time, Clint had encouraged him to fuck Clint's mouth. This time, though, he reached up, grasped Bucky's wrists, and moved his hands to the arms of the chair. He could hear the creak of the wood as Bucky must have gripped it too tightly.

Deep throating was a skill, one that Clint had been very, very good at, and he took pride in the fact that it only took him a few minutes to remember how to do this. Taking Bucky's cock as deep as he could, Cling held it in his throat for the count of ten, while swallowing against the intrusion. Then he slowly drew back, running his tongue up the underside of Bucky's cock until he got to the small knot of nerves under the head.

He was more than a little turned on to realize that that particular move had more effect that it usually did, and he figured it must have had something to do with the fact that Bucky wasn't cut. Out of curiosity, he licked and lipped at Bucky's foreskin, and that got an actual full-throated groan. 

Clint couldn't smile with his mouth full, but he made a mental note of that for later and went back to slowly deep-throating Bucky over and over again. When he started to get a little light-headed from cutting off his breathing repeatedly, he pulled back, releasing Bucky's cock, and dropping below to lick at his balls. Sucking one into his mouth gently, he licked over it, giving it a thorough tongue bath before releasing it. Then he repeated the action with the other ball, so that his whole sac was dripping wet. Then he blew a stream of cool air over them, watching as they pulled up close to Bucky's body.

Bucky fucking _whimpered_.

It would have taken a better man than Clint to resist, so he sat up a bit, rested his elbows on Bucky's legs, and made a point of studying his face. "You okay there, Bucky? You sound like I might have hurt you."

"You might find that you regret teasing me," Bucky gritted out. 

"Doubt I'd regret much when it comes to you," Clint said, giving him a huge, cheesy grin. "What are you going to do? Spank me?"

"You'd like that too much," Bucky said. "No, I just think I _won't_ spank you until you apologized."

"Well, that's no fun," Clint said. Dropping his right hand, he cradled Bucky's still-wet balls. "I guess I should get back to it, then, huh?"

"Damn straight," Bucky said. "And Clint? Don't you dare jerk off."

This crossed into a little more dominance than Clint had expected, but he had to admit that it was still as hot as fuck. "You gonna punish me if I do?"

"Eh, I think I've done enough of that tonight. But I'll reward you if you don't," Bucky said. He was clearly making an attempt to look innocent, but he failed by a mile. 

Clint had to admit that the idea of a reward sounded pretty damn good. It had been a long time since he'd had anything but his own hand on his cock. "I'll just get back to it, then." Without giving Bucky a chance to respond, he sucked Bucky's cock into his mouth again.

The temptation to just try and get Bucky off fast so that he could get his reward was there, but he'd promised a great blowjob, and Phil would haunt him if he gave it less than his best after doing that. So he slowly sucked up and down Bucky's cock, one hand still cradling his balls, none of it moving fast enough to bring Bucky off. 

Even moving slowly, he could tell that Bucky was getting more and more turned on, and when Clint nipped at the head of his cock, he cried out, his hips jerking in the chair. It definitely wasn't in pain, though - not if the rush of precome flooding his mouth meant anything. 

As he continued to lick and suck, Clint slowly slid one finger down the back of Bucky's balls towards his ass, ready to pull away if he got a negative reaction. Some tops loved it, some hated it, and he was curious which camp Bucky fell in.

When the tip of his finger pressed against the wrinkled skin of Bucky's hole, he went down deep again, and just stayed there, swallowing hard over and over again. Pressing gently, he pushed in the tip of his finger, and in response, Bucky shifted in the chair, giving Clint better access to his ass. Well, that answered that.

Spit made crappy lube, so Clint didn't try to get more than the tip of his finger in at first, and when Bucky groaned out, "More," Clint thought he meant for Clint to suck harder. But Bucky's hand tangled in his short hair and tugged hard enough that Clint might have lost a few strands. "No, more of your finger," he said.

"I don't have lube," Clint said, but he pushed a little deeper anyway.

"It's fine - I liked - like it. Just shove it in. Only one finger though." Bucky's face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes dilated even more than the dim light could account for. 

Setting aside his questions, Clint pushed deeper, getting a guttural grunt from Bucky, whose ass was clenching down tight around his finger. He twisted his hand so that he could press the tip of his finger into Bucky's prostate, massaging it gently, and then he took Bucky's cock back into his mouth, sinking down all the way.

This time, he didn't tease or play around. He was out to make Bucky come and come hard, and he put everything he had into it. Within moments, Bucky was squirming and crying out, and then Clint had a throat full of come that he needed to either swallow or choke on. He swallowed, earning another groan from Bucky. He slowly pulled his finger out of Bucky's twitching hole, sucking gently as Bucky shook through the remains of his orgasm. 

Sitting back, he rested his hands on his thighs, his gaze focused on Bucky's face. Bucky's eyes were closed, and he was panting like he'd just run a spectacular race. Clint felt more than a little satisfied. "Guess I haven't lost it," he said.

"Jesus Christ," Bucky said. "I've never - that was the best blowjob I've ever gotten." 

"Why, thank you," Clint said, grinning and giving a mock bow. "Glad to be of service."

"Shut up, smart ass," Bucky growled. Then he patted his leg. "Get up here and have a seat."

Clint wasn't sure about sitting in Bucky's lap, but now that he wasn't distracted by Bucky's cock in his mouth, he was definitely aware that his own cock was as hard as a rock. So he stood up and turned, sitting down carefully on Bucky's thigh.

He thought it would be weird - not even Phil had had him sit in his lap except the few times they'd done ageplay. He didn't think he'd sat in anyone's lap since he was a kid outside of that, in fact. But this was nothing like that - this was unbearably erotic, especially as Bucky wrapped his metal arm around Clint's back and encouraged him to lean back.

There was no question that Bucky was able to support his weight, so Clint did just that, even though that put him completely on display. The pressure of Bucky's arm against the bruises on his back reminded him of the amazing flogging he'd gotten, he still had the taste of Bucky's come in his mouth, and anyone who looked would see just how hot that got him. And when he took a quick look around, he realized that there were more than a few people who were looking.

Bucky used his teeth to strip the glove off his flesh and blood hand, and then dropped his hand to Clint's lap, wrapping around his cock and giving him a slow stroke. The first touch of someone else's hand there made Clint whimper with pleasure.

Clint found himself being tipped closer to Bucky, so that he could whisper into Clint's ear. "Do you want it fast and hard or slow and teasing?" Bucky asked, his voice quiet enough that Clint could barely hear him.

"Oh, god," Clint groaned. "Don't make me choose. Just, please, god," Clint squirmed in Bucky's strong grip. Both sounded good, and he didn't want to think. He just wanted to _feel_.

"Slow and teasing it is," Bucky said, and Clint could hear the grin in his voice. "Put on a good show for all these nice people."

"Yeah, okay, just please don't stop touching me," Clint begged. Just the fact that he _had_ someone to beg ratcheted his arousal up even further. 

"Not going to stop until you come," Bucky said, his voice low and deep and dark. "But it's not going to be quick." His hand was wrapped loosely around Clint's cock, moving slow and as steady as a metronome. Clint squirmed a little, pushing up into Bucky's hand, trying to deepen the contact, only to have Bucky slow even more. When Clint relaxed back into Bucky's grip, not trying to push for more, he was rewarded by a slight speeding up of Bucky's hand. Message sent and received. As long as he didn't move, Bucky wouldn't slow down. Got it.

But that was a lot harder than it sounded - all he wanted to do was thrust up, encourage Bucky, but to sit here passively was so fucking hard - harder than his dick, and that was saying something. Somehow he managed, but when Bucky nosed at the spot behind his ear, sniffing deeply as if he could smell Clint's sweat and arousal, Clint groaned.

Bucky's hand tightened, just for a moment.

Oh, so that was the way he was going to play it? Clint wasn't the most demonstrative of people when he was deep in this kind of head space, but to get off, he'd do it. So he moaned and leaned further back, trusting Bucky to keep him upright. Clint could feel Bucky smiling against the side of his face, and Bucky's hand tightened.

It became a cycle of Clint demonstrating that he was enjoying Bucky's actions, and Bucky increasing either the speed or the pressure. "Oh, Jesus, Bucky - so good. It feels so good to just be _touched_ ," Clint said, his throat hurting from the pressure to let even more out. Actual words earned him Bucky sliding his hand over Clint’s cock with intent, and Clint knew it wasn't going to take much more. "I'm so close... Please don't stop. Can I - can I, please?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, his voice deep and throaty. "Let me see it. Come all over yourself, Clint."

With that permission, it was like the last resistance Clint had to coming dropped away, and Clint sobbed as his orgasm ripped through him. Even as he came, he realized he was crying hard, and tried to stop.

But Bucky just released his grip on his cock and wrapped Clint up tight in his arms, holding him close as the orgasm did what the flogging hadn't. Clint managed to keep the sound under tight control, but his breath was hitching, tears rolling down his face, and it was embarrassing and humiliating in a way that he didn't like.

The only thing that made it bearable was that Bucky didn't make a big deal of it. He just continued to hold him and rock him as Clint let himself feel all the emotions that had been crammed down - not just today but since Phil died. Slowly, though, the tears stopped, and when he pulled back from Bucky, Bucky let him go. "Uh, sorry," he said, resisting the urge to scrub at his face like a little kid.

"Like I said, I've seen lots of guys cry in here. Didn't take me long to figure out that different people reacted to this kind of stuff differently. Besides, you should have seen Steve when he got the stuff from the museum. He was a wreck for three days. Took both Sam and me to calm him down." Bucky rubbed warm circles on Clint's back, but didn't make any attempt to restrain Clint or keep him from sliding off his lap when Clint figured he could keep his feet under him.

"Still, I'm sure you didn't come here to deal with my trauma. You didn't sign up for that." Clint grabbed a couple of paper towels from the table next to the CBT chair and used them to clean up - first his face and then his belly. Throwing them away, he made a point of avoiding eye contact as he started putting on his clothes.

Bucky shifted forward in the chair, wrapping his hand around Clint's wrist, and making him stop. "Hey, if nothing else, I'd like to think I'm your friend. I'm glad I could be there when you needed a friend. And better me than someone you didn't know, right?"

Clint took a deep breath and reflected on the horror that that would have been. "Yeah, that's true," he said. Phil had always told him uncomfortable truths the same way, completely matter of fact, and the comparison between the two of them made Clint feel more than a little weird. In every other way, Bucky and Phil couldn't have been more different, but the comparison did strange things in Clint's chest. Better to just not go there. As far as he knew, Bucky was just in this for a good time, and he wasn't going to ask for more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waxplay

"What is it about New York that attracts supervillains?" Tony asked as they sat in the back of the SHIELD truck taking them back to the tower. "Is it the great food? The number of tourists who are too dumb to get out of the way when pieces of buildings start getting flung around? The awesome new ice cream place by Central Park?"

Almost everyone ignored Tony's bitching, since it was pretty much the same thing every time, but Natasha perked up. "There's a new ice cream place? Anything creative or is it like all the other gelato places around the tower?"

Bucky watched disinterestedly as Tony and Natasha got into a spirited discussion regarding the merits of various sweets. He thought to himself that it sounded like Natasha was having her time of the month, since she normally didn't eat much in the way of sugar, but after making the mistake of saying that _once_ to her, he kept that thought to himself. He'd already spent the afternoon getting tossed around as bait, since today's villain was only interested in the Winter Soldier. The last thing he wanted was to face Natasha in the ring and get his ass handed to him again.

Steve was sitting on one side of him, head resting against the side of the truck, his eyes closed. He'd gotten the second worst of the team, unable to stand back and watch as Bucky got pummeled by some weirdo with electrical powers. At least the two of them had accelerated healing and would probably be fine by the evening. Sam sat on his other side, chatting with Bruce. _He_ wasn’t hurt at all, the bastard, because he’d been over the fight, not _in_ it.

Glancing around the truck, he caught Clint's eyes, who mouthed "The club? Tonight?" at him. Bucky snuck a glance to make sure that Steve still had his eyes shut, and then nodded silently.

The rest of the ride back to the tower passed in a buzz of Tony and Natasha talking, and thoughts of what they might get up to that night.

He thought about going out to the club _with_ Clint, but he figured if that was what Clint was interested in, he would have said so. So he just headed down to the club as soon Steve gave up on giving him to join the rest of the team upstairs and went without Bucky.

It was a little early when he got there, but the place was hopping, and Bucky cursed to himself. He should have checked the website to see if there were any special events, but he’d been so distracted that he’d forgotten. Hopefully Clint would get there early enough that they’d be able to find some equipment free.

Once he was through the black curtain, he saw what the crowd was about - the bar area was full of vendors. And now that he thought about it, he remembered seeing signs about a flea market. Now he knew what that was. A little curious, he wandered between the tables, checking the wide assortment of merchandise.

It never failed to amaze him at the ingenuity of people getting their rocks off. There was everything from gorgeous single tail whips to needles to devices for electricity. And for everything that looked like a torture device, Bucky knew that he’d find a line of people interested in doing them for fun. 

There was a table with brightly colored candles in small glass jars, and that attracted his attention. As he picked up one of the candles, the vendor smiled at him and said, “So, these are low-temp candles. Perfect for someone just starting out, or someone who’s more into the sensation than pain. I’ve got some beeswax candles too, if you would be more interested in those.”

“I’ve never played with wax,” Bucky admitted. One of the things he’d discovered now that he was part of the world was that people were usually all too interested in sharing their interest if you gave them an opening.

“It can be a lot of fun,” the woman enthused. “Like I said, the low temp candles aren’t really painful, but the sensation can’t be duplicated by anything else. If you’re playing with someone who’s particularly hairy, though, you should either put down a layer of baby oil first, or it can be a little uncomfortable to get off.”

“I can just imagine,” Bucky said, and he could. He could imagine Clint’s back and ass decorated with all these different colors, and he wondered if that was something that Clint would be interested in. He thanked the woman for the information and moved on.

He paused by one of the vendors selling floggers. On the one hand, he’d seen first hand that Clint had plenty of the things. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that he was always going to be able to play with Clint. That thought did funny things to his insides, but rather than examine them too closely, he moved on.

It was so crowded that he couldn’t keep the amount of personal space that he usually preferred, and it was tough not to just leave. Maybe call Clint and see if they wanted to go to one of the other clubs in New York? They wouldn’t necessarily cater to the gay and lesbian community the way this one did, but most of them were, at least in policy, open to everyone interested in the lifestyle.

Then he realized that he’d never gotten Clint’s number. He couldn’t exactly call Steve and ask for it - not without explaining why he needed it - so instead he walked away from the tables and over to the bar to get a beer.

He was sitting there, nursing it quietly and studying the crowd absently when the curtain twitched aside and Clint walked in. In the seconds between his entrance and his spotting Bucky at the bar, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the look on his face, of longing and interest and an openness that Bucky envied. He hadn’t been able to leave his face that unguarded in his life.

Bucky could tell the moment that Clint spotted him, because his face lit up and he started to make a beeline towards the bar. Then someone caught his attention off to the side, and he broke away, headed towards a woman sitting at the other end.

The conversation between Clint and this woman was brief but intense, and Bucky had to stomp down hard on a flair of jealousy. It wasn’t like he and Clint had made any promises. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to make those kinds of promises right now. When Clint excused himself away from her and resumed heading towards Bucky, though, Bucky was glad to see it.

He waited while Clint ordered one of those disgusting pisswater beers, and then Clint leaned in and brushed a kiss across Bucky’s cheek. Instantly, his face got hot, and he just _knew_ that he was blushing. And from the look on Clint’s face, he’d noticed. Thankfully for Clint’s safety and Bucky’s dignity, he made the right choice and didn’t say anything.

As a distraction, Bucky gestured towards the woman that Clint had been talking to. “Know her?” he asked.

“Yeah. She was a friend of… a friend of Phil’s. She just wanted to make sure I was doing okay.” Clint said. Given his words, he was not as subdued as Bucky would have expected, and that made him glad. Maybe Clint was doing better after their last scene. He knew it was a little girly of him to care so much about someone that as far as he knew he was just fuckbuddies with, but Clint was a good guy, and he deserved happiness.

“So have you looked around?” Clint asked, clearly looking to change the subject, and Bucky decided to just go with it.

“Yeah, saw some interesting things. Want to take a look together? Or did you bring something that you want to do?”

“Eh, I brought some impact stuff, but I’m always interested in looking at new stuff,” Clint said, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Show me what you found interesting? Maybe we can give it a try.”

“Okay.” Bucky got down off his barstool, and started to head back over to the vendors. He was a little surprised to feel a hand in his, and when he looked back at Clint, Clint just looked at him. His expression felt like something of a challenge, so Bucky didn’t argue or try to pull his hand away. 

It felt kind of good to be holding hands like that, like the innocent that he’d been once.

They explored the tables together, and as Bucky had already been through once, his focus was more on Clint’s reactions than what they were looking at. 

The floggers didn’t hold Clint’s attention for long, and he bypassed the table with the electricity stuff entirely, but when they got to the wax, he paused. The woman behind the table launched into her spiel again, and Clint listened courteously until she wound down, and then turned to look at Bucky. “Ever play with wax?” he asked.

“No,” Bucky said. “But I take it you have?”

“Not often,” Clint admitted. “It wasn’t a thing that Phil was real fond of. It can be pretty messy. But it’s definitely fun.”

“Sold,” Bucky said. After how present Phil Coulson had been in their last scene, something that didn’t hold that kind of emotional weight sounded like a good idea. He pulled out his wallet, and pulled out a twenty, handing it over to the woman in exchange for five of the candles in different colors. 

“You guys planning to use them here and now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Clint said, his voice full of laughter.

“The club asks that you use a tarp if you do wax,” she said. “And you’re going to probably need a lighter and baby oil. I’ve got a kit here for ten bucks.”

Clint reached for his wallet, but Bucky still had his in his hand, and he handed over another twenty. “Keep the change,” he said.

“Thanks!” She smiled and pocketed the money, as Clint took possession of the small bag. They passed the rest of the vendors and headed into the club proper, looking for a spot to use what they’d just bought.

“I assume we don’t do this with you standing,” Bucky said as Clint peered around.

“Nah. What we need is - oh!” Clint set off determinedly, Bucky following in his wake. A little amused at how eager Clint seemed to be, Bucky didn’t hesitate, and when Clint got to an unoccupied massage table, he definitely saw how that would work much better than anything he could have imagined.

Clint busied himself with lying out the tarp. “You should light the candles so that they start filling with wax,” he said, and held out the lighter for Bucky to take.

Bucky found all of this a little funny. Clint was so into this, and Bucky couldn’t imagine being the guy who could see this reaction and still refuse to do it. By the time he had all the candles lit and lined up on the nearby table, Clint had the table and surrounding floor covered with the tarp, and had stripped out of his clothes. This time, instead of the neat stack of folded clothes that he’d come to expect, the pile was messy and just shoved off to the side.

“You know, you’re going to need to take your gloves off, right?”Clint asked, standing there unashamedly naked, like he didn’t even notice that he wasn’t dressed while Bucky was still wearing everything he came in. “And you might want to take off your jacket as well. Wax is a bitch to get off something you can’t wash.”

Bucky nodded, shrugging out of the jacket and dropping it on top of Clint’s pile of clothes. He took off the glove that covered his flesh and blood hand and dropped that as well, then paused and looked around. 

Clint met his eyes. “No one is looking, Bucky. No one _cares_. And your shirt covers most of it anyway.”

Nodding, Bucky bit his lip and stripped off his other glove. He felt more naked than he’d felt last time, with no pants on. His metal hand shone dimly under the lights, and Bucky couldn’t help but stuff it in his pants pocket to hide it. Then he growled at himself and pulled it back out. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, and it was time to stop hiding.

While he’d dithered about, Clint climbed on the table, lying face down, and settling with his arms under his head. His head was turned so that he faced Bucky, though, and once Bucky had settled into having his hand on display, he gave an encouraging smile. “Ready?” he asked. “God knows I’m more than ready.” 

Grabbing the bottle of baby oil, Bucky started to open it, only to have Clint shake his head. “Don’t need that,” he said. “I like the feeling of it peeling away.”

Bucky wasn’t going to argue. He picked up the first candle - a bright, vivid, purple. It amused him a little, since it was the color most associated with Clint, and from the smile tugging at the corners of Clint’s mouth, he got the joke as well.

“Here we go,” Bucky said, and poured a slow stream down Clint’s spine, starting at the nape of his neck and ending right above the cleft of his ass. Clint hissed, arching up into it, and there was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that that was a good noise.

Slowly, he poured little bits of the wax on Clint’s back, carefully making sure that it was coated in a fine layer. Once his whole back was purple, he set down the candle to refill and ran his hand down Clint’s back, feeling the warm silkiness of the cooling wax. 

Clint lifted his head and said, “If you pour a pool of it, it takes longer to cool - gives a better effect and lets you play with it.”

“Good to know,” Bucky said. This time, he picked up the red candle, and poured a small puddle of it in the small of Clint’s back. True to his word, the reaction he got was that much greater, a soft moan and Clint squirming so hard that Bucky was momentarily worried that he was going to fall off the table. Trailing his fingers through the pool of still liquid wax, he used it like finger paints, pulling bits of it up and over the purple, leaving vivid colors in his wake.

Another pool of wax between Clint’s shoulder blades got a similar effect, and Bucky went to town with the liquid this time, getting both hands into it and massaging it into Clint’s skin. It was going to be a bitch to get it out of the joints of his hand, but the reaction was definitely worth it.

Clint cried out. “Jesus, that’s good,” he said, squirming happily. “Didn’t even think about the cold metal and the hot wax.” And yeah, Bucky could see how that would be an interesting contrast. 

Gradually, he worked his way through the candles, building up layer after colorful layer. As the wax got thicker, it took even longer to cool. Clint moaned every time he put down a new layer, a sound that was going right to Bucky’s cock. In between applications, he dragged his fingers through the wax, mixing up the colors, making a right royal mess.

When all five colors thickly coated Clint’s back, ass, and thighs, he bent down so that he could whisper in Clint’s ear. “You good? Or should I do your front now?”

“You pour that wax on my cock and I’m going to come,” Clint groaned. “So hard right now.”

“Flip over - show me,” Bucky said, his throat thick with the desire to see that.

It took Clint a few seconds to get over on his back, the wax cracking and flaking away as he moved. Bucky could appreciate the club’s insistence on the tarp, because there were bits of wax everywhere at this point.

Clint was definitely telling the truth. His cock was so hard it was purple, straining towards his belly button, drooling a fine line of precome from the slit. Bucky was tempted to see if he really could make Clint come just by pouring some wax on his cock, but that would bring the scene to an end, and he didn’t want to do that. Instead, he picked up the yellow candle and poured a solid stream from one nipple to the other .

The reaction was everything that Bucky could have hoped for. Clint arched his back so hard that practically the only things touching the table were his shoulders and his heels, and he howled out a cry of “Yes!” Bucky didn’t wait until the wax cooled before he was pinching them _through_ the wax, making Clint shudder and cry out. 

It was _beautiful_.

Once again, Bucky wondered how Coulson could have denied himself this sight. Oh, well, Coulson was gone and Bucky got to see this. That was all that really mattered right now.

“Are you ready to come, Clint?” he asked.

“Fuck, yeah, Bucky. Please,” Clint said, his voice more demanding that begging but it was still hot. Bucky sat down the candle and eyed the others lined up. Conveniently (and amusingly) enough, the one fullest of wax was the purple candle once again, and he picked it up.

He figured that having candle wax going down _inside_ Clint’s cock was probably bad, so he grasped it gently in his flesh hand, holding it at an angle, and with the other, poured out the wax, coating his cock from just below the head to his balls.

Clint fucking _screamed_ , his cock jerking in Bucky’s hand as he shot streams of come up to his chest. Bucky massaged the hot wax into the fragile skin of Clint’s cock, ignoring the way that it burned his own hand, pulling more come out of Clint, until he was whimpering and pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Enough,” he slurred out. “Enough.”

Bucky couldn’t stand it any more. He ignored the fact that he was getting wax all over his jeans as he ripped them open, pulling out his cock and jerking it hard and fast until he was coming on Clint’s chest as well. As his come landed, Clint groaned softly, and it was like the sound went straight to Bucky’s balls and turned him inside out.

It took a few minutes for Bucky’s breathing to steady, and in the meantime Clint seemed to be content to just lie there and wait. Once Bucky was no longer depending on the table to keep him upright, he met Clint’s eyes, and the two of them started laughing. 

Bucky wasn’t sure why Clint was laughing, but Bucky was laughing because the scene had just been _fun_. It almost felt like he’d forgotten what pure fun felt like.

Slowly, they both drew to a stop, and Clint said, “Okay, you ready for the best part?”

Bucky looked him a little askance. “The rest of this wasn’t fun?”

“I should have be more clear,” Clint said. “This is the best part aside from the screaming and coming. It’s getting all this wax _off_.”

“So how do we get it off?” Bucky said. “With the oil, it would have just peeled off…”

“Oh, you still peel it off. It just has more of an impact,” Clint said.

“Oh, really?” Bucky asked. “This I’ve got to see.” He reached out and started to scrape the wax away from Clint’s cock.

Clint hissed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he lifted his hips into Bucky’s grip. “Yeah, just like that.”

The skin of Clint’s cock was reddened from the wax, but it didn’t look actually burned, which made him feel a bit of relief. Burning Clint’s naughty bits would have been tragic, at least in the short term.

As Clint squirmed and cursed and whimpered, Bucky scraped away the wax with his fingers and his nails. By the time the last of it was being scraped away, Clint was squirming against the massage table, clearly half hard again. Bucky urged him over on his back and eyed his cock with interest. “Want another round, Clint?” he asked.

“Oh, god,” Clint groaned. “I don’t think I can.”

Bucky wrapped his hand around Clint’s cock and gave it a slow stroke. “You sure about that?”

Clint whimpered, but his hips pulled back, and Bucky let go. “I wish, but if I try you’re going to have to carry me back to the tower.”

Bucky didn’t actually see the problem with that, but Clint sounded pretty certain, so he didn’t push the issue. Instead, he blew out the candles so that the remains could cool, and helped Clint clean up the mess of hardened wax.

When Clint went to pull on his shirt, he hissed as the material brushed over burned skin, but the grin on his face made it clear that this was actually a good thing. Bucky turned his attention to getting the wax out of the joints of his hand while Clint finished up, startling when Clint’s hands started picking at the wax as well. It came up fairly easily, as nothing ever really stuck to it anyway. Bucky was relieved that that trend held steady, though, because this was not a mess he wanted to explain to Steve.

Once everything was clean and tidy. Bucky grabbed Clint by the arm and pulled him in. The kiss was soft, and almost tender, and it made Bucky feel things that he didn’t want to put a name to. Instead, it came to a natural end, and he said, “Should we get an UBER back to PATH together?”

“Sure. Though, I don’t know if we should go into the tower together. I don’t know that I’m ready for those questions.”

Steve’s face floated up in Bucky’s mind, and Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m not ready for that yet, but I’d feel better if you weren’t on the subway by yourself.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Clint said, packing the candles in the bag they’d come in.

“Never doubted it,” Bucky said, completely truthfully. "It just makes me feel better.”

“Well, let’s get on the road, then.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uniform kink, hair pulling

If Bucky bitched one more time about being up here on the roof instead of down next to Rogers, Clint was going to drop him over the side himself. The only reason that they'd brought him was that they thought that this was a full turn out by the Masters of Evil and that Helmut himself was with them. They were wrong on both counts - there were only about fifty of the foot soldiers and no sign of their leader at all. 

Which is why Bucky was up here on the roof, because the stupid press was out in stupid force, and stupid FOX would air another fucking stupid segment on how dangerous the Winter Soldier was if they saw him, so here he was, up on the roof next to Clint, instead of down on the D.C. Mall, defending the Museum of American History and Old Glory from the idiots trying to steal it in some convoluted plan to force Rogers to surrender.

Honestly, it was actually pretty sad, because they were getting their asses collectively handed to them, and yet none of them were smart enough to just fucking run away. Next to Clint, Bucky was finally quiet, just aiming and firing and dropping idiot after idiot.

As the rest of the team mopped up the remains of the attack force, Clint stood up and stretched. This hadn't been too bad - he'd only gotten through two quivers - but there was a pleasantly warmed up feeling in his arms and shoulders. He loved when he got to use his bow.

Next to him, Bucky had also stopped shooting, and when Clint turned to see if he'd calmed down any, he realized that Bucky was staring at Clint with a glazed, fixed look in his eyes. "Bucky? You okay?" he asked.

Bucky shook himself, and said, "Uh, sure. You know, I don't know why I've never noticed that your uniform doesn't have sleeves. Don't you get cold?"

Oh, this was interesting. Clint picked up his bow, and drew it slightly, as if he was testing it just a little, and Bucky licked his lips. _Very_ interesting.

"Sometimes," Clint said. "But usually the bow-work keeps me warm enough. Of course, now that I'm not firing, I'm starting to get a bit chilly." Collapsing his bow, he set it down carefully, and then rubbed at his arms, as if they were cold.

Bucky jerked his eyes away, looking down over the Mall, but as far as Clint could tell, there really wasn't much to see other than SHIELD agents scooping up injured bad guys and Rogers giving an impromptu press conference. Sam and Tony had come to a landing near the press, and he could almost imagine the bickering. He thought that he could be much more interesting than that. "Bucky?" he said, keeping his voice low. "Do you want to warm me up?"

Bucky spun back around to stare at Clint, his eyes wide and his mouth working soundlessly for a minute. He didn't say anything, but he started to advance on Clint, backing him away from the edge of the building and towards a convenient wall. It wasn't like Clint was resisting at all - this was more fun than anything else happening right now, that was for sure.

His back thumped into the wall, and Bucky bracketed Clint's body with his own, his chest pressed against Clint's, his arms wrapping around Clint. "Better?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Clint reached up and switched off first his comm, and then Bucky's before murmuring, "Now I am. But, you know, I could probably be warmer."

Clint wasn't really sure where he thought this was going. Teasing, maybe a hand job if he was lucky. Bucky dropping to his knees wasn't even on his radar, but that was what happened, and as Bucky undid his uniform pants, Clint whimpered in a less than manly way. Then again, he didn't exactly care about being manly when his cock got sucked into a hot, wet, mouth.

He dropped his head back so hard that he saw stars from it hitting the wall, but he didn't care. The pain was nothing when compared to the first blowjob he'd had in more than two years. Bucky wasn't using any finesse, wasn't trying to drag this out or tease. He was just sucking, hard and messy and _perfect_. "Fuck, Bucky," Clint groaned.

Bucky moaned around Clint's cock, and the vibration went straight up Clint's spine, making itself at home in the back of his brain, the part that controlled his interest in sex. Clint would have been embarrassed at how fast he was getting to the edge, but he couldn't bring himself to care that much. 

When Bucky's metal hand, cool and hard and unyielding, wrapped around Clint's balls, Clint yelped a little, and the unexpected sensation pulled him back off the edge. Clint patted frantically at Bucky's shoulders and head, and when he grabbed a little harder than he meant to, Bucky moaned again. 

"Oh, really?" Clint said, slowly sliding his hand into Bucky's messy ponytail and grabbing - first cautiously, and then tighter when Bucky just started moving even more eagerly.

The noises coming from Bucky were almost animalistic, eager and needy, and Clint couldn't help but wrap his other hand in Bucky's hair, clenching it in his fists and pulling just a little. In response, Bucky's mouth went slack, his eyes meeting Clint's in an obvious invitation. A little dazed, Clint started to fuck Bucky's mouth, being careful to not choke him but rougher than he would have thought that Bucky would have been willing to take.

Not only did Bucky not struggle or object, he _closed his eyes_ and just gave himself over to Clint, leaving it to Clint's self control not to push too hard.

Clint whimpered again and pushed in a little deeper. "Swallow," he groaned out. "Can you - oh, god, please - can you?"

Somehow, Bucky seemed to know what he meant by that nonsense and swallowed hard, his mouth and throat clenching tight around Clint's cock, and that was it, all that Clint could take, and he started to come hard, shooting down Bucky's throat.

He'd barely finished when he used his grip on Bucky's hair to pull him off his cock and up to his feet. Bucky came up eagerly, and as Clint him hard and messy, he could feel Bucky undoing his pants and starting to jerk his cock.

As hot as that was, Clint didn't want to have to explain come stains on his uniform, so he dropped to his knees and sucked Bucky's cock down. It didn't take more than thirty seconds before he was coming, and Clint carefully swallowed every drop before getting back to his feet.

"So the uniform does it for you, huh?" Clint asked, smirking.

"Aw, shut it," Bucky said. "You're just fishing for compliments."

"No, really, you're not the first person to admire my fine arms, but I've never been shoved into a wall with quite so much enthusiasm - "

Bucky smacked him across the back of the head, and Clint shut up, grinning. Figuring out someone's kinks was always so much fun. He was really enjoying this, and even if it didn't mean much beyond friendship and play, it was still good.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is being a dumbass, but there are no kinks in this section

As Bucky got ready to go out, _again_ , Steve bit his tongue. Natasha had told him several months ago that Bucky was going out and socializing, but didn't appear to be associating with anyone he shouldn't have been. She'd refused to tell him where Bucky was going in specific, though, and in the last six weeks, she'd refused to say anything at all, even as the number of times he'd gone out had increased.

Aw, hell, he had to say something. Maybe this time it wouldn't blow up in his face the way it had the previous three times. 

"Are you going out tonight, Buck?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as positive.

Bucky didn't even pause as he tied his hair in a knot. "Yeah. Shouldn't be out too late, though, so don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I'm not worried about how late you're out," Steve said. "I know that you're not doing anything you're not supposed to be doing, but you've been out a lot lately." Then a thought occurred to him. Trying to keep the hope out of his voice, he said, "Have you maybe met someone?"

Bucky's hands froze, just for a split second, but given how well Steve knew him, it was as obvious as if he'd yelled it out. "Hah - so there _is_ someone. Why haven't you introduced her to me at least? I mean, I understand not subjecting her to the rest of the team, but you know I'd be on my best behavior."

"Him," Bucky said, finishing securing the band holding his hair and turning to face Steve. "It's not a her, it's a him."

Suddenly, Steve felt as if he was walking on quicksand. He'd known that Bucky sometimes fooled around with other guys before the war, but he had no idea that he was still into that. But this was the most information he'd gotten out of Bucky in months, so he didn't want to discourage it. And it wasn't like it was 1939 anymore - Bucky wasn't likely to end up getting the crap kicked out of him for who he was dating.

"Okay, him," Steve said, working hard to keep his voice even and loose. "Question still stands - when am I going to get to meet him?"

Bucky ducked his head, no longer meeting Steve's eyes. "You already know him." Bucky's voice was steady, not matching his obvious reluctance to tell Steve. 

Steve thought about the men that he knew that Bucky might also know. Not Tony - he was with Pepper, who would remove Tony's testicles with an ice cream scoop if he cheated. Not Fury, because the times the two had come in contact, there had been dead silence and cold shoulders. Obviously, not Steve himself, and he wouldn't be going out if it was Sam. Bruce, maybe? Didn't exactly seem like Bucky's type. They didn't know the same people who weren't Avengers in this day and age. Wait...

"You're dating _Clint_?" he demanded. "Clint Barton?"

Now Bucky was meeting his eyes, and he was clearly _pissed_. "What's wrong with dating Clint? Not that we're really... dating, that is. Just having some fun. But still, why is that a problem? Is it the guy thing? Or do you want to tell me there's something wrong with Clint being who he is?"

Steve found himself backpedaling frantically in the face of Bucky's obvious anger. "No, I don't have a problem with the guy thing," he said. "And Clint - Clint's a nice guy, but don't you want to date someone who isn't an Avenger? Someone you don't have to think about all this stuff with?"

"Right," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "Because the average guy on the street is going to see the arm and just roll with it. At best, there will be more questions than I want to deal with. Worst case, they'll be a plant from someone out to either get the Avengers or try to take the Winter Soldier. And if, by some miracle, neither of those things apply, then almost guaranteed someone is going to try to kidnap them or kill them for leverage against me and the team. Tell me again that that's a good idea, Steve. Give me a reason to put a civilian in that kind of position."

Steve's brain was spinning frantically, and when it spit something out, he didn't think about it too much - he just said, "Wait, you've been going out in the evenings for at least seven months. You've been dating Clint all that time and never bothered to tell _me_?"

"I haven't been going out with Clint for seven months, no," Bucky admitted. "Just the last two months or so."

"So where have you been going? I know you've been going to some sort of club - haven't you been worried about _those_ civilians letting on who you are, even if you're not worried about their safety?"

Bucky sighed deeply and looked heavenward as if he was looking for strength. "Look, the club I've been going to... it's really into the privacy of its members. And I'm not stupid - I wear long sleeve shirts and gloves, so the arm isn't visible."

"And no one thinks that's weird?" Steve demanded. "What the hell kind of club is this anyway?"

"It's, uh, it's," Bucky stuttered, which just aroused Steve's suspicions even further. 

"What is it, some sort of sex club?" Steve demanded. 

"Not... exactly," Bucky said, and then sighed again. "It's a BDSM club, Steve."

"What the hell is BD... whatever it is that you just said?" Steve asked. He didn't know what it was, but Bucky's reaction made it clear that he didn't expect Steve to be happy about it.

Bucky growled low in his throat. "Look, it's a club for people who are into sadism and masochism, among a lot of other things. No one looks twice at the gloves, except to maybe notice that they're leather and admire them. Among these folks, it's just an affectation and they respect it without asking questions, because they don't want to be asked questions either."

Steve heard the word "masochism" and his brain locked right back up. He couldn't see any way that something that involved pain was a good thing for Bucky, not after the way that HYDRA had used and abused him for so long. "So, what, you're letting Clint _hit_ you? How is that healthy, Bucky? This just sounds like a bad idea all the way around."

As he finished, he realized that Bucky was so red, he was purple, and a vein in his temple was throbbing. It was the angriest he'd seen Bucky in more than seventy years. But he wasn't backing down, not on this.

"Look, Steve, I know you think that I'm breakable or fragile, but I'm not either. And you don't get to tell me what is a good idea for me - that's for me to decide." Bucky's hands were tight fists at his sides, and Steve knew that it was only Bucky's supreme self control that kept him from punching Steve. "It's none of your business what Clint and I do at a club or anywhere else."

"I'm not trying to say that you're fragile. I just think that with everything, a situation where you're getting hurt willingly isn't the best choice," Steve said, keeping calm, trying to reason with Bucky.

"I think that you don't get to tell me anything about my choices," Bucky growled. "Isn't that what that high priced shrink that you made me see told you? Let me make my own damn choices?" Bucky's head came up, and his glare was unflinching. "My choice is to go to BDSM clubs when I damn well feel like it, and play with who I like there - and if that person is Clint, then that is _my_ choice and you don't get to tell me different. You don't have to like it or agree with it or any of that shit. I'm telling that that's how it is, so deal with it, or I'll see if I can find an apartment outside the tower so that you're not keeping track of my comings and goings."

"Whoa," Steve said, holding his hands out placatingly. "I don't want you to move out, and I'm not trying to make your decisions for you. If you say it's safe, then I won't say a word. And I won't say a word about you seeing Clint - "

"And you won't say anything _to_ Clint, either," Bucky demanded.

"Fine, fine," Steve said. "I won't say anything to him either. But just promise that you're being careful?" Steve tried to put all of his love and concern in his words, and he saw that some of it got through as Bucky's hands uncurled and he took a slow deep breath.

"I'm always careful," Bucky said flatly. "That's part of what's great with Clint, you know - he knows who I am, he knows what I'm capable of. I don't have to _be_ as careful with him. Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

"You're still going to go out?" Steve said without thinking, but when Bucky just glared at him silently, he stepped back and out of the way. "Will I still see you tonight?"

"I don't know," Bucky said. "Maybe. It'll probably be late, so don't wait up for me."

"Okay," Steve said, feeling a bit like he was watching a train hurtle towards his best friend but was unable to stop it. And if he tried, he might lose his best friend anyway. All he could do was let him go and make a point to be there if it went wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intracrural sex

Bucky slammed his way out of the apartment. He wasn't really sure where he was going to go - he and Clint _were_ supposed to meet at the club, but not for another four hours. He could go early, but the club wouldn't actually open for at least an hour after he'd get there if he made reasonable time.

Figuring what the hell, he went down to Clint's apartment and knocked. This time Clint opened the door, and without a word, held the door open and gestured that Bucky should come in. "So what happened?" Clint asked once he was inside and the door closed.

"Steve," Bucky growled. "Steve happened, and like always he got beneath my skin. He figured out that we were going out, and first he had some sort of problem with that. And then I had to open my mouth and tell him that we go to a BDSM club, and then I had to explain _that_ , and let's just say that that didn't go well at all."

"Okay," Clint said after a moment. "He has a problem with me liking that kind of play? Or he thinks I'm, what, too stupid to say no to you?"

"Yeah, right," Bucky said, throwing himself into one of the chairs at Clint's kitchen table. "He decided that I must be bottoming and that the only reason I'd do that would be because of HYDRA. He's conveniently forgotten about all the times I came home at night too sore to move because I'd been fucked so hard."

Clint had been taking a sip of his beer when Bucky said that, and at Bucky's words, he choked a little, spitting beer everywhere. "Wait, really? He thinks _I'm_ topping _you_? Why didn't you just set him clear on that?" And then the rest of what Bucky said seemed to register in to his head, and he said, "You used to bottom for - "

"Well, we didn't call it BDSM," Bucky said matter-of-factly. "Just considered it rough sex, but yeah, used to. And it's none of Steve's business which of us is doing what, so that's why I didn't tell him. Besides, I didn't know if you'd be okay with him knowing."

Opening the refrigerator, Clint pulled out a six pack of the beer that Bucky usually drank at the club and set it front of him before grabbing a few more Millers for himself. "Figured we'd end up back here eventually," he said at Bucky's curious glance. "This definitely is a six-pack kind of night, I think."

Bucky nodded, grabbed one of the bottles, flipped the cap off with his metal thumb, and drank deep. Clint sat down at the chair across from him and took another drink off his own beer. "So, I don't actually care if you tell Steve," Clint said, after a minute. "I'd prefer you not tell AIM or HYDRA, but Natasha knows, I'm pretty sure Tony and Bruce don't care, and if it'll smooth things over, tell Steve."

"It shouldn't matter," Bucky said rebelliously, taking another drink of his beer. That drained that bottle, and he grabbed another one. 

"Shouldn't and don't are two different things," Clint said, finishing his own beer and shrugging. "To Steve, who's on top probably actually matters, selective memory about your history or not. I don't want you guys to fight over this - unless after he knows the truth he's still trying to say you shouldn't do it. Then I'll give him a head smack for you."

"I don't want to talk about this," Bucky said. "I just... I know we had plans tonight, but I don't want to go out, and I don't want to talk about it. Can we do something else?"

"How about TV?" Clint asked. "I'm pretty sure I don't really want you hitting me when you're mad at Steve."

Bucky looked at Clint, horrified at the thought. "I wouldn't do that," he said. "I wouldn't hit you angry."

"I figured as much," Clint said, voice casual. "Just, you know, putting that out there. Let's watch garbage reality TV and drink beer and pretend that tonight just never happened, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," Bucky said, grabbing the rest of the six pack and following Clint to the sofa in front of the indecently large TV. They put on House Hunters and started to make fun of the crazy budgets and requirements of the people on the show. After watching one where Clint insisted that the correct job title for the husband was "Butterfly net maker," and the wife was "Underwater basket weaver," and that they had a budget of 1.9 million dollars, Bucky started to relax. Whatever Steve thought about Clint, whatever bug he had up his ass that made him think that Clint wasn't a good choice was just nonsense. Clint was good people.

As he finished off the last of the six pack, he looked over to Clint, only to realize that Clint was staring right back at him. And from the unfocused look in his eyes, he didn't have a supersoldier's alcohol tolerance. "You're drunk," he said.

Clint fucking _giggled_. "Nah, just good and buzzed," he said. "Hey, why are you sitting way over there?"

Bucky looked at the whole foot of space that separated the two of them in confusion. "I'm not that far away, Clint." 

"Yeah, but we could be, like, touching and shit," Clint said. Before Bucky could point out that this might be a bad idea, Clint was already sliding over, first pressing up against Bucky's side, and then shifting so that he was sitting astride one of Bucky's legs. "Hi," he said, his eyes impossibly wide. He looked like a character in one of the animes that Bucky sometimes watched late at night when he couldn't sleep. 

"You know, you've never fucked me," Clint said, his fingers trailing down the side of Bucky's face and leaving a trail of fire in their place.

Bucky swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "And I'm not going to fuck you tonight, either," he said. "You've had too much alcohol for me to do that."

"That's fine," Clint said. "But you know I'd let you if that's something you'd like to do."

"We can talk about it another day," Bucky said. His hands settled on Clint's arms. He meant to get Clint to shift off his lap, but realized that he didn't want to stop touching Clint anymore than Clint seemed to want him to stop. 

"Maybe we could at least lie down together," Clint said, and before Bucky could answer, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bucky's with a complete lack of finesse.

"If we lie down together, we are _not_ having sex," Bucky said. Consent under the influence was not consent - Bucky had had that pounded into his head when he'd first found the club, and under the assault of this erotic menace, he clung to it. 

"Fine, no sex. But I can touch you, right?" Clint asked. "And we can be naked? We haven't done that - both be naked together. I've never even seen you without your shirt on." Clint's fingers were running under the collar of his shirt, scratching at the edges where the collar brushed against his collar bones.

It was getting harder to think as Clint was touching Bucky in places that hadn't been touched in far too long. "Clint," he groaned. "Okay, yes, bed, yes, naked. But no sex. Promise me, you're not even going to try to get me to fuck you, understood? Or I'm going back to my apartment."

"You don't want to do that," Clint said. "Steve is there and he's being mean to you today. You want to stay here, and I promise I won't try to talk you into fucking me, but we can maybe fool around and come. I want to come when we're both naked."

Bucky knew there was something wrong with that logic, but he couldn't remember what it was. So instead he nodded, and said, "You're going to have to move if you want me to lie down with you."

“Right. I need to move.” But Clint didn’t slide off Bucky’s lap. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to Bucky’s mouth, licking at his lips. 

Bucky was pretty sure that kissing was okay, so he returned the kiss with interest. Clint’s mouth tasted like beer, and was so warm and eager that all Bucky could think about was the times that his cock had been where his tongue was right now. But that _would_ cross the line, he thought.

To be honest, while he wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t precisely sober, either, and trying to figure out where the line actually was was getting harder by the moment. _Heh_ , harder. He finally decided that as long as there were no cocks inside someone else, he was probably on the right side of consent.

Decision made, he pushed Clint back a little. “You want to make out on the couch or you want to get naked and lie down?” he asked.

“Naked,” Clint answered definitively. This time, he slid off of Bucky’s leg, and the feel of his cock rubbing against Bucky’s leg made Bucky groan.

As soon as he was on his feet, Clint grabbed Bucky by the hand and pulled him to his feet. “This way,” he said, turning and heading towards the bedroom.

Bucky was used to the suite he shared with Steve and Sam - it had four bedrooms, including a spare in case Sam’s sister came to visit - and took up half the floor. Clint’s apartment had the same layout in the kitchen and living room, but it looked like it just had two bedrooms. 

Clint’s bedroom kind of looked like a tornado had gone through, leaving clothing in its wake. But Bucky didn’t say a word. Clint’s target was obvious - he was headed straight for the unmade king-sized bed, shedding clothes as he went. A little amused, Bucky stopped by the chair next to the door and started taking off his own clothes. He didn’t have much of an issue with shedding his shoes or pants, but when it came to his shirt, he found himself just standing there for a long minute, trying to convince himself that it was okay.

In fact, he stood there long enough that Clint must have realized that there was a problem, because he came back over and once again ran his fingers down the side of Bucky’s face. “It’s okay if you can’t,” he said, sounding much less drunk than he had five minutes earlier. “I get it.”

“No, you really don’t,” Bucky muttered, but he wasn’t going to let his own doubts stop him. Jerking his shirt over his head, he stood there, naked, waiting for Clint’s reaction.

Clint had seen the arm before - the whole team had, at one time or another - but Bucky tried really hard to never be shirtless. So he doubted that Clint had realized how much of his shoulder and upper chest was metal as well before right now. 

“Wow,” Clint said. “Can I - does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” Bucky said, shrugging. “Most of the time I don’t notice it, though.”

Clint’s hand hovered over his shoulder. “Can I touch it?” 

“If you want,” Bucky said. Clint hesitated a moment more, and then stroked his hand from the point where metal became flesh, and down over the seam.

The contrast of pressure on the metal plating versus the warmth of flesh on flesh made Bucky shiver. He’d been handled all sorts of ways as the Winter Soldier, and the point where the arm became him had been checked over some indeterminate number of times. But it had never happened with such gentleness, or such care, unless it had been Steve. And when Steve had touched him, it had been coupled with such intense grief in Steve’s eyes that Bucky had barely been able to bear it.

This wasn’t exactly _sensual_ , but it wasn’t pitying either, and it made Bucky want to be touched more. “I thought we were going to lie down,” he said, his voice a little unsteady.

Clint still looked a little drunk, but his eyes were more clear, and Bucky wondered what exactly he was seeing. Clint’s hand was gentle for another few seconds, and then it dropped away, just before it would have become too intense to deal with. “Right, lying down now,” he said. He headed back over to the bed, turning to look at Bucky over his shoulder. “Coming?”

Bucky shook off the weird feeling moving through him and followed in Clint’s wake, climbing up in the bed and wrapping himself around Clint. It felt good - no, it felt _great_. Seeking out Clint’s mouth with his own, he fell into a kiss that seemed to be the most natural thing he had done in what felt like forever.

Clint’s hands were everywhere, as if having been given permission to touch such a hidden part of Bucky freed him to touch everywhere else. And Clint was certainly taking advantage of that implied permission. His hands trailed up and through Bucky’s hair, and then down to his ass, pulling him more firmly against Clint’s body. “I’m not fucking you,” Bucky repeated, but it didn’t sound as decisive as it first had. “I’m not.” Better.

“Shh,” Clint said. “Not going to ask you to. I have another idea, though. Think you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah.” Clint let go, and Bucky tried not to shiver from cold at the sudden lack of contact. Clint twisted, digging in the nightstand drawer and coming up with a bottle of lube.

“Clint,” Bucky started. “I said - “

“I know what you said. I just thought you might like a nice tight place to thrust, and it works better if it’s slick.” Bucky wasn’t sure what the hell Clint meant until Clint poured out a handful of the lube and slicked the skin between his legs, before rolling over on his stomach.

“Oh,” Bucky said, suddenly realizing what Clint meant for him to do. He rolled on top of Clint, taking most of his weight on his hands, and slid his cock between Clint’s muscular thighs.

Between the lube and his foreskin, he slid smoothly, the head of his cock nudging up behind Clint’s balls. Clint groaned, his hips lifting into each of Bucky’s thrusts. Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly Clint was getting out of this, but it still felt _amazing_ , so he wasn’t going to stop.

His hips were rolling, thrusting slow and smooth. Leaning down, he pressed kisses to the back of Clint’s neck, biting lightly - not enough to mark, but enough that Clint whimpered and tipped his head forward, inviting more. 

Clint’s legs pushed together even more tightly, and while it wasn’t as good as Clint’s mouth, or what he imagined it would be like to be in Clint’s ass, it was still so good. Each thrust ratcheted the tension inside Bucky tighter, as if he was a spring being twisted. When Clint groaned and said, “Next time, we stay sober. I’ve _got_ to feel you inside me,” the tension snapped, releasing all at once, and Bucky came like he hadn’t come in forever, his come slicking the way even more.

He continued to thrust for a few more seconds. He knew that he could easily go for a second round, but that wouldn’t exactly be fair to Clint to leave him hanging, when he’d been so nice to him. So he pulled out slowly, grimacing a little at the mess he’d made of Clint’s bed.

As soon as he was no longer on Clint’s back, Clint flipped over, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. Before Bucky could get a hand down on to Clint, Clint had wrapped one hand around the back of Bucky’s head, and pulled him into a deep kiss, while he jerked himself with his other hand. 

It didn’t take Clint more than a minute or two before he was coming, all over his stomach and hand and bit on Bucky as well. "That was good," he slurred out. He reached out, wrapping his slick hand around Bucky's arm, and pulled him down, half on top of Clint, half on the bed. "Sleep now."

Bucky wanted to stay, he really did. He even closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that him staying out all night was just what Steve deserved. But even though Steve now knew that he was, well, something with Clint, and even though Steve _should_ assume that they were together and Bucky was safe, he couldn't bring himself to do just stay out all night.

So once Clint was soundly asleep, he gently untangled himself from Clint's arms. Pressing a kiss to Clint's forehead, he whispered, "Sleep well," before getting up, getting his pants on, gathering the rest of his clothes, and going out into the living room. "JARVIS," he whispered. "Is the coast clear between here and my apartment?"

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS said, just as softly. "If you take the back stairs, you shouldn't run into anyone. But Captain Rogers is awake in his room. I can't guarantee he won't come out when you enter the apartment."

Bucky hesitated. He didn't want to deal with Steve tonight, especially half dressed and smelling of sex, but he also didn't want to run the risk of waking Clint up by taking the time to clean up and get dressed before he left. "Fuck it," he muttered. Steve would just have to cope.

Getting back to the apartment was a bit anticlimactic. Steve didn't come out of his room. He just called out, "That you, Buck?" and when Bucky answered yes, wished him a good night.

He knew he should shower before bed - he still had come all over him. But he kind of liked smelling like a mix of him and Clint, so instead he stripped off and climbed into his cold bed, trying not to wish he was somewhere else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gunplay in a sexual context

Clint woke up a little disoriented and unsure as to why. He was in his own room, in his bed, why was he feeling so odd? Then he moved and realized just how sticky he was. That reminded him that when he fell asleep, he hadn't been alone, but now he most definitely was. "Son of a bitch," he growled. 

He understood that Bucky might not have been comfortable staying the night - they didn't have that kind of relationship. But good manners meant that he should have at least woken Clint up before he left, rather than sneaking out in some sort of walk of shame.

The headache pounding in his temples and the taste of something dying in his mouth didn't help, either.

Well, lying here in a pool of cold come and lube, while feeling sorry for himself, wasn't going to fix the problem. He forced himself to get out of the bed and go into the bathroom to clean up, trying hard to ignore the fact that he could have really done with someone to scrub his back as he showered. Cleaning up and brushing his teeth, along with drinking what felt like a gallon of water, helped. 

He changed the sheets, shoving the dirty ones in with the dirty clothes that were picked up weekly, and then debated what to do with his day. He didn’t really feel like dealing with anyone, so he opted out of seeing if there was anyone in the communal kitchen. Instead, he dug out the box of Lucky Charms. The milk in his refrigerator didn’t bear thinking about, so he just ate a few handfuls dry, which helped his stomach settle a little.

As he munched away, licking away the slick sweetness of the marshmallows, he tried to talk himself out of being so upset. They hadn’t discussed Bucky staying the night, and he might have thought he wasn’t welcome. Of course, if he’d bothered to wake Clint up, he’d have known that that wasn’t true, but whatever.

Grumbling, he decided that if he was going to be grouchy, he might as well put it to use in poking holes in things. Pulling a sleeveless t-shirt on, he slid into his shoes without bothering to tie them, and left the apartment to take the elevator to the basement.

The green light reassured him that there was no one at the range, so bonus - no having to answer why he looked hungover. Grabbing his training bow and a quiver of arrows, he moved to the lane furthest from the door, and decided to draw a smiley face on the target.

He got through the eyes, nose, and half the mouth before the light flashed. He grimaced, sincerely hoping that it wasn’t Natasha. He loved her like a sister, he really did, but she never hesitated to get involved if she thought he was fucking up his life - personal or professional. It got old sometimes.

Then the door swung open, and Clint realized that it definitely could be worse. Also, apparently God hated him. Because it was Bucky, standing at the entrance to the range, looking like he felt about as good as Clint did.

He still didn’t know why Bucky had left without a word, and he needed to at least be civil until he found out. So he said, “Hey,” and left it at that, waiting to see if Bucky wanted to talk about it.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice subdued. He went to his locker, pulled out his gun and ear covers, and went to the other end of the range without saying anything else.

Fine. Bucky was going to be like that? Fine. Just _fine_. Setting down his bow, he went to his own locker to get his ear protection, trying hard not to think about the other week, when they’d played and laughed in here. Returning to his lane, he picked up his bow, but the enjoyment he’d felt at drawing the face was ruined. “JARVIS, new target,” he said, and then put the ear protection on.

He’d hit the bullseye five out of five times on the new target before he realized that there was no sound of gunfire. Even with the ear protection in place, he should have heard _something_.

Setting his bow back down, he said, “JARVIS, flash the lights.” They immediately did, and Clint took off the ear protection. “Bucky?” he called out. If Bucky had his own ears covered, he wouldn’t be able to hear Clint.

“Yeah, Clint,” Bucky answered.

Okay, talking. That’s what he should do here, right? Right. “I’m coming over there,” he said.

He didn’t get any objection, so he stepped out of his lane and walked down to the other end of the range. Bucky was standing there, ear protection around his neck, gun sitting on the ledge in front of him, arms hanging loose at his sides. He was the very picture of a kicked dog.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Clint asked. He knew that cheerful was going to be difficult, so he just went for _not angry_. From the even more hangdog look on Bucky’s face, he didn’t quite succeed.

“Sorry for leaving without saying anything,” Bucky said, and he certainly looked - and sounded - sincere. “Just, I didn’t want to Steve come looking for me if I didn’t come home.”

Now Clint felt like a heel for being mad. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that there might have been a legitimate reason (even if just in Bucky’s head) for him to leave. But he wasn’t going to let him off with nothing. “I understand that,” he said. “But you could have at least woken me up before you left. It kinda sucks, waking up alone.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said again. “I just - I didn’t want to wake you up when you looked like you were sleeping really well. I won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t,” Clint said. “But you know - Steve knows that we’re a _thing_ now. You could just tell him that you’re going to crash at my place.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky said. 

Figuring that that was about the best he was going to get, Clint nodded. “You hungover?” he asked.

“Nah,” Bucky said. “I don’t really get hungover any more. Just didn’t sleep well, is all.”

“Steve?” Clint asked.

Bucky looked a little hunted for a moment, then squared up and admitted, “No, nightmares. I have a lot of them.”

Clint nodded. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the team free of them,” he said, “and you definitely have good reason for them. Another reason you should have stayed - I could have gotten up and kept you company.”

“Nah,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to impose.”

Clint snorted. “You aren’t hearing me. It wouldn’t have been an imposition - it would have been one friend doing for another friend. And we’re friends at least, aren’t we?”

Bucky smiled, a little shyly. “Yeah, we’re friends. Okay, next time I won’t sneak out on you.”

“That’s all I ask,” Clint said. “So, you down here for actual target practice or something else?”

Sighing, Bucky admitted, “I might have asked JARVIS where you were.”

“JARVIS, you ratting me out?” Clint asked, but his face felt like it was going to split he was smiling so hard.

“My apologies, Agent Barton,” JARVIS said. “You did not give me instructions to the contrary, and given the games that you and Sergeant Barnes played the last time you were down here, I did not feel his company would be unwelcome.”

“Nah, he’s never unwelcome,” Clint said, but he was meeting Bucky’s eyes evenly, trying to will him into believing Clint. When Bucky nodded, just the barest dip of his chin, he felt like cheering.

“So, you want to play again?” Bucky asked. “See if you can beat my time?”

Clint shook his head. “Nah. You might not be hungover but I am, a little. I might be convinced to try something else, though.” He glanced over at Bucky’s gun, where it lay on the counter, and then back at Bucky’s eyes. _Here, little fishy, fishy_ , he thought to himself. _It could be fun_.

Bucky looked at him for a minute, before slowly reaching over and picking up the gun. He studied it in his hands for a second, before ejecting the clip and clearing the chamber. Setting the clip down on the counter, he pointed the unloaded gun at Clint and said, “I thought you didn’t like guns?”

Even after watching Bucky unload the gun, and knowing that he was at absolutely no risk, he got a little flutter of nerves in his belly. He licked his lips. “I don’t like using them if my bow will work,” Clint said. “I - well, in someone else’s hands? They can be hot.”

“Oh, really?” Bucky asked. “I’ve never saw them as hot - just a tool to get the job done.”

“They’re that, too,” Clint said. “But a little fear is like seasoning on a good steak - adds to the experience.”

Bucky was still pointing the gun at him. “So if I ordered you to your knees while doing this, you’d find it hot?”

“I’d find it hot like _burning_ ,” Clint said. Then he just stood there. For it to work, Bucky was going to have to actually give the fucking order.

Clint watched as Bucky’s eyes shifted between his face, to the gun, and back again. Then he shifted, subtly, going from the guy who drank on Clint’s couch and bitched about his best friend to something a lot closer to the international assassin he’d been not that long ago. “On your knees, Clint,” he ordered.

_Fuck, yes_. Clint slid to his knees, running his hands down Bucky’s chest, stomach, and thighs in the process. Once he was there, he sat back on his heels, rested his hands on his thighs, and _waited_. Leaving the bait, waiting to see if Bucky would pick it up again. 

Bucky extended his arm, pressing the barrel of the gun against Clint’s forehead. “Don’t just mess around down there. Get it out and suck it.” His voice was strong and firm. It was clear that he didn’t expect resistance.

Oh, _holy_ fuck. This was better than Clint could have hoped for. His hands were shaking a little as he undid the front of Bucky’s pants. His cock was already hard, leaking a little at the tip. Clearly he was as into this as Clint was. Clint thought about teasing a little, and as if Bucky could read his mind, the barrel pressed even more firmly against his head. 

Taking that as instruction, Clint leaned forward and swallowed Bucky down to the root, sucking hard as he pulled back. Bucky groaned, and the pressure from the gun receded a little.

He hesitated, and that pressure came back. God, Bucky was good at this. Clint went back to sucking and licking and doing everything he could to make it as good as possible for Bucky, tasting the precome that he was leaking copiously and licking it away.

Bucky’s free hand wrapped around the back of Clint’s head, pulling him in tight, Bucky’s cock deep down Clint’s throat and choking him a little. Clint groaned at the pressure, and that seemed enough to push Bucky over the edge, his hips jerking as he came down Clint’s throat. Clint swallowed hard to make sure that he didn’t miss a single drop. 

As the gun and Bucky’s hand fell away from Clint’s head, Clint went back to sitting on his heels. He wasn’t sure that Bucky would want to stay in charge now that he’d come, but until Clint was told otherwise, it wouldn’t hurt to assume that that was the case.

Bucky set the gun down on the counter. Redoing up the front of his pants, he studied Clint’s face. Clint wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but when Bucky crouched in front of him and pulled him in for a deep kiss, he assumed that he’d found whatever it was.

“Do you want to come?” Bucky asked, his voice pleasant and full of menace at the same time. Clint thought idly that that was a neat trick, but it really didn’t matter - he was too busy nodding, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth in anticipation.

Bucky shifted so that he was kneeling in front of Clint, his hands busy with Clint’s fly. Undoing it, he pulled out Clint’s cock and gave it a slow stroke with his metal hand. Clint couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation of cool metal against his overheated flesh. “That’s a pretty noise,” Bucky said, doing it again. “Think you can come from this?”

“Think I’m gonna come if you don’t stop quick,” Clint said, half admission, half begging. 

“Let’s see that, then,” Bucky said, tightening his hand slightly, speeding up.

Clint whimpered, his hips moving into each of Bucky's strokes. "God, I'm so close," he said.

Bucky's hand tightened slightly, and the rasp of the metal against Clint's cock felt _amazing_ . "Come on, Clint. Give it up for me," he demanded. "You're going to come for me right _now_."

He'd never been good at coming on command, but it only took two more strokes and then Clint was coming hard enough that his vision went blurry as all hell. He groaned, fighting hard to hold position even as he wanted to curl around Bucky's hand and hold on to the sensations.

Gradually, Bucky stopped moving his hand, just holding on to Clint's cock, giving tiny little strokes that just drew out the pleasure and made it last even longer. Finally, though, Clint couldn't take any more, and he pushed Bucky's hand away, oversensitive almost to the point of discomfort.

"That was amazing," Clint said. "Any time. I mean that, any time you want a blowjob, just let me know."

Bucky grinned. "I think I can live with that." Bucky stood up, and then held out his flesh hand for Clint to get a grip on so that he could be pulled to his feet. Then he held out his metal hand. "Lick it clean," he ordered. His voice wasn't quite as firm, but there was no question that he meant it.

Cold come wasn't Clint's favorite thing, but the idea of Bucky being open enough to allow this overcame that, and Clint dove in, licking the metal clean. He didn't stop until all he could taste was the flavor of the metal.

When he met Bucky's eyes, they were a little glazed over, and a glance down showed that he was hard again. "Want another round?" Clint asked. The idea of going to his knees again wasn't exactly a hardship.

Then the light at the front of the range flashed, and both of them hurriedly turned their attention to putting their clothes back together. "Stall, JARVIS," Clint ordered. "Just give us a few seconds - "

"I've already locked the door, Agent Barton," JARVIS said. "Please let me know when I can let Agent Romanoff in."

Oh, _hell_ . Bucky had Steve to deal with. Natasha was going to be Clint's problem, and it was one he didn't want to deal with right now.

As soon as they both had their clothes in place, Clint hurriedly picked up his bow even as Bucky slid the clip into his gun and started firing. "You can let her in," Clint said, already headed to the storage locker to put away his training bow.

"Hi, guys," she said, going to her locker. "Everything okay in here? JARVIS wouldn't unlock the door, but wouldn't tell me why." She was staring at Clint, he just knew it, even without looking.

"Everything's fine, Nat," he said, putting away his gear. "I was just finishing up. See you later." Raising his voice, he said, "Hey, Bucky. See you later?"

Bucky nodded, but didn't turn around from his contemplation of the target. Natasha looked suspicious, but didn't say anything. Clint took advantage of the momentary reprieve and fled.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex toys, Gates of Hell, Nipple torture, Nipple clamps, D/s, butt plug, orgasm denial, oral sex, anal sex

Bucky wanted to go out. Steve and Sam were visiting Sam’s grandmother, so he wouldn’t have to deal with Steve’s disapproving eyebrow or Sam’s growing curiosity. Besides it was Thursday night, which meant that it wouldn’t be crazy at the club.

He’d finally gotten Clint’s number, but it was just as easy to run down two flights of stairs and knock on the door, so that was what he did. He could hear noise behind the door, and then it opened, showing a Clint dressed in sweats and t-shirt. “Oh,” Bucky said. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the club, but it looks like you’re in for the evening. I can go away.”

Clint frowned at him. “Why? I mean, yeah, I don’t want to go to the club, but we could just play right here. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked.

In response, Clint held the door open wider and gestured for Bucky to come inside. “Yeah, I’m sure. I even have some stuff that we could do here.”

Bucky felt his eyebrows arch. While he had no doubt that Phil and Clint had had sex away from the club, he’d somehow gotten into his head that their scenes had mostly happened there. Clint waved him towards the couch, and Bucky sat obediently, waiting while Clint went into his bedroom.

There was the sound of stuff being shifted around, and a few minutes later, Clint came back holding a plastic tub that was large but not too deep. When he dropped it on the sofa next to Bucky, it jingled, and Bucky shifted around, really curious now.

“Well, go ahead,” Clint said. “Open it up.”

Bucky did as Clint asked, pulling off the lid and looking inside. All he could do was stare for a moment, as it was a lot to take in. There were cock rings and plugs and clamps and all sorts of things. On top of it all was a box of condoms.

Picking that up, he met Clint’s eyes and said, “This a hint?”

“Think of it as more of a request,” Clint said. “You certainly don’t have to if you don’t want to, but my ass is definitely on offer.”

Bucky licked his lips. He had to admit that Clint’s muscular ass had definitely had a role in his fantasies as of late. “So, what are your favorite things in here?” he asked.

Clint grinned. “That whole box is full of my favorite things,” he said,. “There’s nothing in there that I won’t enjoy.”

“Really,” Bucky let the word drag out. He pushed the various toys around, coming across a pair of nipple clamps that looked vicious, with alligator clip tips. When he pulled them out, weighing them in the palm of his hand, Clint made a quiet sound. There was no question that it was good sound, so Bucky set it aside and continued to dig through the container.

He found a toy he recognized from Clint’s duffel bag - a series of metal rings connected by leather. “What’s this?” he asked, holding it up.

“That’s a Gates of Hell,” Clint said. “It’s like a more advanced version of a cock ring?”

“Can you come with it on?” Bucky asked.

“I can’t get fully hard,” Clint said. “I’ve been known to have a dry orgasm with it on, though. It’s amazing.”

“Hmmm,” Bucky said, and set that with the nipple clamps. The last thing he pulled out was a plug, smaller around than his cock, but made of stone and heavy. There would be no way for Clint to ignore that he had that inside of him. Putting the lid back on the container, he met Clint’s eyes and asked, “Okay?”

“Definitely,” Clint said. “You want to do this here or in the bedroom?”

Bucky looked around the living room, studying the height of the furniture. It looked just about perfect to fuck Clint over. “Let’s start here,” Bucky said. “We just need you naked and some lube.”

Clint pulled open the drawer on the side table and pulled out a tube of KY, tossing it on the coffee table. Bucky stared at it for a minute. “Do I even want to know?”

Laughing as he stood up, Clint said, ”I figured we might end up here eventually. Nothing wrong with being prepared.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and Bucky felt his mouth go dry as Clint’s chest came into view. “Besides, the look on your face definitely made it worth it,” Clint continued as he pushed his pants down and off.

His cock was mostly hard, lying against one muscular thigh, and Bucky figured before he did anything else, he needed to get the cock rings in place, or Clint would be too hard for Bucky to get it to do it. Picking up the gates, he said,”So, how does this go on?”

“Large ring first, it goes around my cock and behind my balls,” Clint said matter-of-factly, but looked so turned on his tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. “Think you’ll be able to figure out the rest of it.”

“Hmmm.” Bucky reached out and ran a quick stroke over the Clint’s half-hard cock, then slid the large ring down. It fit fairly loosely around Clint’s cock, but when it came to getting his balls through it as well, it was a little trickier. He had to carefully nudge one ball at a time through the ring, which seemed much tighter when he did that.

The rest of the rings slid onto Clint’s cock, one after another, the last fitting right up under the head of his cock. As he settled it into place, Clint groaned, a slightly pained, very hot sound.

“You good?” Bucky asked, and Clint nodded eagerly. 

“So good,” Clint said. His cock filled out the rings nicely, but he’d been right - he wasn’t going to be able to get hard all the way.

Bucky leaned forward and ran his tongue over the head of Clint’s cock, loving the way it made him groan in obvious desperation. His hips twitched, but not enough for Bucky to say anything. Instead, he pushed Clint gently to the side and stood up. Clint looked up at him, and Bucky had to get his mouth on Clint's. It was just as necessary as breathing.

So he leaned down, pressing his lips to Clint’s and licking his way inside as Clint groaned into his mouth. Bucky ran his hands over Clint’s shoulders and down to his hands, which were clenched at Clint’s side. Clint wasn’t passive - he kissed back eagerly - but he let Bucky have control over the kiss. 

Bucky let his hands drift back and squeeze Clint’s ass before pulling his cheeks apart and letting one of his fingers slide over his hole. Clint groaned, his hips jerking again, and this time Bucky gave one good swat to his ass. “Hold still,” he growled.

“Yes, si - Yes,” Clint moaned.

“You want to call me sir?” Bucky asked. He suspected that that was something that went back to Coulson, and he didn’t want a dead man in this, so before Clint could answer, he said, “No, not sir. I’m a sergeant - I work for a living. You need to call me something, that’s what you can call me. You got that?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Clint said. “Fuck…”

“Not yet,” Bucky said. Releasing his grip on Clint, he stepped back. “Go around to the back of the sofa and bend over it.”

Clint scurried to obey, and yeah, that was going to be just about the right height for Bucky, even if it did mean that Clint was balancing on his toes. “Reach back and spread yourself,” he said, picking up the lube and the heavy stone plug. “Do I need to put a condom on this?” he asked.

“No - it’s, uh, it’s non-porous,” Clint said, his voice a bit choked as he held position.

“Good to know.” Bucky stepped up behind Clint and dipped down, running the flat of his tongue over the tight puckered opening. Clint positively squealed, the sound going right to Bucky’s cock. But they had all night, and there was no reason to rush this. So he went to his knees and pressed his face in between Clint’s cheeks, licking and sucking at his hole.

He could hear Clint panting, but his hands never moved, and he didn’t shift position, as if he was afraid that Bucky might stop if he did. And when Bucky slid his tongue deep inside, he cried out, loud and frantic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Sergeant.”

Bucky smiled against Clint’s ass and then pulled back, causing Clint to make a sad sound. “Don’t worry, I’m not done,” Bucky said. “You’re going to be begging to come by the time I’m done with you.” 

He ran his fingers over Clint’s hole again, which was a little more relaxed and nice and wet. “Do you need fingers? Or just the toy?” he asked.

“Oh, god,” Clint asked. “Just… just the toy. And _hard_ \- want to _feel_ it.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your name - you’ll get it plenty hard. But I’m not going to hurt you with a rock.” Before Clint could argue, Bucky slicked up the plug and started to slowly push it home.

The sound that Clint made seemed to be consist solely of consonants, and it was _gorgeous_. Once the plug was in all the way, Bucky spent several minutes playing with it, tugging and twisting it, as Clint groaned and squirmed around. 

Finally letting the plug settle into place, he stood up, and then said, “Okay, we’re going to go sit down on the couch.”

“You want me to sit with this up my ass?” Clint asked. “I’m not even sure I can _walk_.”

“You can. If you want to come sometime tonight, you’ll get your fine ass around the couch,” Bucky said, already walking around and sitting down. Clint was a lot slower, but he got there eventually, and Bucky patted his thigh. “Have a seat,” he said with a leer.

Clint slowly lowered himself into Bucky’s lap, and Bucky rewarded him by a quick stroke over the head of his cock. Clint whimpered, and Bucky had to laugh a little. “Too much?” he asked, with faux sympathy.

“Not enough,” Clint said, a little defiantly. 

“Oh, really.” Bucky shifted Clint around so that he was straddling Bucky’s thighs, facing him. Then he ran his hands down from Clint’s shoulders to his nipples, and pinched, _hard_.

When Clint cried out, Bucky smiled. “You know, you make some of the best sounds,” he said. Leaning forward, he took the very tip of one of Clint’s nipples between his teeth and bit down, earning another cry. He soothed the bite with a quick lick, and then bit again. 

He spent long minutes worrying Clint’s nipple, until it felt hot and swollen in his mouth. Only then did he let go, pulling back and picking up the nipple clamps from the side table. He flexed the alligator clip a few times, making sure that he had Clint’s attention, and then slowly, carefully, clamped it down hard on Clint’s nipple.

Clint made a sound that was almost a scream. “Too much? Should I stop?” Bucky asked, unable to tell if that had been a bad sound or a good one.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Clint said, panting. “Oh, my god.”

Grinning, Bucky let the chain and other clamp dangle from Clint’s nipple and turned his attention to the other, getting that one just as tender and swollen before attaching the second clamp. When he raised his head and met Clint’s gaze, there was no question that Clint was just as in to this as Bucky was - his eyes were glazed, there was a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin, and when Bucky trailed his fingers along Clint’s thigh, his skin twitched in the wake. 

With Clint spread wide over Bucky's thighs, his balance seemed a little precarious, so Bucky pulled him forward until he was kneeling more firmly on the couch, one leg on either side of Bucky's lap. Conveniently enough, that made all of Clint available for Bucky to touch and fondle and just generally torment, so he took full advantage. 

Tugging on the chain that connected the nipple clamps, he grinned at the cry that Clint gave, before moving to stroke the skin of Clint's cock between the rings and squeezing his balls. He occasionally jostled the plug in Clint's ass, just so he'd _really_ feel it, but he didn't fuck him with it - he wanted Clint still tight when it was his cock instead of a toy.

He tortured Clint for long minutes, enjoying the hell out of himself. From the look on Clint's face and the way that he was begging, Bucky wasn't the only one having fun right now. "Please, Sergeant - oh, god. Please?" Clint begged, his voice and breathing ragged and torn in his throat.

"Please what, Clint?" Bucky asked. "Please do more of this? Please fuck you? Please _what_ , and be specific." As he said the last word, he pulled even harder on chain on the clamps, and one of them popped off. Clint gave a short scream, and Bucky could only imagine the sensation as blood flowed back into the abused nub. 

"Oh, can't have that," he said. He grabbed the clamp, and teased Clint's nipple with it. The tissue looked swollen and red, but the skin wasn't broken, so it didn't bother Bucky in the slightest to attach it again, this time changing the angle slightly for even more sensation. Then, without warning, he tugged the other one off. 

This time, Clint didn't scream. Instead he gave a small whimper and thrust out his chest, clearly asking for it to be put back as well. "Is this what you want, Clint? Me to torture your tits some more?"

Clint panted and licked his lips before saying, "Anything. God, anything you want. Sergeant, _please_."

"Ah, ah, ah, I said be specific," Bucky said. "That wasn't specific _at all_. I think I need to punish you for that."

" _Anything_ ," Clint said. "Yes, Sergeant, please punish me!"

"Oh, but you're not going to like this punishment," Bucky said. "The only way you get to come? Is with the rings _on_ and while I'm fucking you. If you don't? You don't get to come until the next time we play." It was a lot further than Bucky had ever taken their scenes, and they'd never discussed anything like this, but it just _felt_ right.

Clint's eyes flew open and met his. They were shining and bright and so dilated that all that Bucky could see was a thin line of blue around the black pupil. "Yes, yes, okay. Does that mean you're going to fuck me now?" Clint's voice sounded downright hopeful.

"Not just yet," Bucky said, still teasing Clint's nipple with the loose clamp. "First you're going to ask me very nicely to put this back on you. Then you're going to get down on your knees and blow me nice and slow, showing me how well you deep throat my cock. When I'm ready, and not before, I'm going to bend you over the back of the sofa and hammer your ass."

As Bucky had spoken, Clint's breathing had sped up, and he was squirming so much that Bucky was afraid that he was going to fall off of his lap, even pulled as far forward as he was. "Oh, god, please, Si- Sergeant. _Please_."

"Please what, Clint?" Bucky asked. He was loving every second of this. None of the scenes he'd done with anyone else had made him feel as powerful, as in charge, as Clint was making him feel right this minute.

"Pl-please put the clamp back on me and let me - let me suck you? Please?" Clint's desperation came through loud and clear.

"That's a good boy," Bucky said, and leaning forward, licked over Clint's nipple, just once before refastening the clip. Clint whimpered, but was already sliding back, clearly intending to get to the floor.

Bucky helped Clint ease down, as his balance was shot. Once Clint was settled on his knees, Bucky's hands went to his fly, freeing his erection. Clint licked his lips, but his eyes were fastened on Bucky's face, as if he was waiting for permission. "Go on then," Bucky said. "Get your mouth busy."

"Yes, Sergeant," Clint said, and then all Bucky could do was grip the sofa cushions and try not to rip through them, because this blow job made the other ones Clint had given him seem like amateur hour. He knew why that was - Clint wasn't trying to make him come this time, he was just trying to earn the fuck he'd been promised - but still, it was enough to make Bucky feel like the top of his head was going to blow off.

It took effort, but Bucky managed to keep his voice calm and even as he said, "You know, I can come several times in a row. I think I'll come twice tonight - once down your throat and once up your ass. Sound good to you?"

Clint groaned, the sound muffled by just how deep Bucky was down his throat. He started to speed up, and Bucky placed a hand on his head, forcing him to slow down. "You'd think you're in a hurry," he said, but this time his voice was a little more breathy than he wanted to admit. "You in a rush or something?"

He didn't give Clint a chance to answer, pulling his head forward so that his lips were circling the base of Bucky's cock obscenely. Clint's eyes were open and focused on Bucky's face, shining with lust and what might have been tears, though Bucky thought they were just from the effort he was making to be a good boy. Still, he wasn't completely sure, so he pushed Clint off his cock, to give him a chance to catch his breath.

It didn't take Clint long before he was going after Bucky's cock again, with a single-minded focus that Bucky could admire. This time, Bucky let him, because he was as desperate to come as Clint seemed to be to make him come. Clint's eyes never left Bucky's face, and when Bucky had to close his own because his orgasm was approaching, he could still see the desperation and the satisfaction in them.

He swore that he saw stars when he came, and when he finally could open his eyes, it was to Clint licking his cock clean of every drop of come. "Mmmm... You have a fantastic mouth," Bucky said. "I should take advantage of it more often."

Clint released his cock and said, "Whenever you want, Sergeant. But please, I've been good - can I get fucked now?"

"Yeah, I did promise that, didn't I?" Bucky asked rhetorically. "Back up."

Sliding back on his knees, Clint stayed in place as Bucky stood up and gave his cock a thoughtful stroke. He wasn't quite fully hard right now, but that'd fix itself pretty quick. Reaching down, he looped his hands under Clint's arms and pulled him to his feet, where Clint wobbled a little. 

He took a moment to examine Clint's nipples. They were angry-looking - practically purple from the clamps, and in order to not do permanent damage, Bucky decided that they needed to come off. But just taking them off would be boring. So instead he spent several moments flicking, tugging, and twisting them, until Clint was panting harshly. Interestingly enough, though, he kept his chest thrust out, as if he couldn't get enough of it. "You like this, Clint? Having your pretty little tits played with?"

"Oh, god, yeah," Clint said. " _Love_ it."

"Really?" Bucky gave a particularly mean twist to one of the clamps, causing Clint to cry out. "Can you come from nipple torture?"

"Dunno," Clint said, his voice shredded. "Possibly? But Sergeant, you _promised_ \- "

"I could change my mind," Bucky said. "But yeah, I want to see what your ass feels like around my cockt. I'll fuck you. But first..." He grabbed the chain connecting the clamps and gave it a hard tug, pulling them both off at the same time.

Clint put his head back and positively _howled_. Bucky had an idle thought that he hoped no one shared Clint's floor, or if there was someone, that they weren't home, because they might wonder if Clint was being killed.

He ran his thumbs over the hot, swollen nubs, pressing and releasing them as Clint whimpered. "Hurts," he whispered. "Hurts _so good_."

Bucky continued to play with them as he leaned down and took Clint's mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. They hadn't made promises, they may never do so, but right here and now, Clint was _his_. Clint opened his mouth eagerly, letting Bucky kiss him hard and fierce, making soft sounds into his mouth.

Finally, when _he_ couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled back, resting his forehead against Clint's. Clint had an expression on his face that was partially subspace, but Bucky had never seen a subspace that looked so _peaceful_.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he said, pulling back and standing up straight, trying to recover some space. It was getting very deep in here, and he needed that distance.

"'Bout time," Clint said, eyes open and full of mischief. "You could have had my ass that first night, you know."

Bucky swatted Clint on the ass. "Get around the sofa. And remember, if you don't come while I'm in you, you don't get to come till the next time we play."

Clint rolled his eyes. "I'm hearing a lot talking, not a lot of doing," but when Bucky aimed another swat at him, he started to move, walking carefully around to the back of the couch and bending over the back.

Bucky quickly stripped out of his shoes and pants, and then, after standing there for a second, the rest of his clothes. He wanted to feel Clint's body against his again. Grabbing the box of condoms and tube of lube, he followed Clint around, pausing to admire the way that the strain of the position caused Clint's legs to spread, showing the edge of the plug still up his ass. "Now that's a pretty sight," he said. 

"Don't just stand there and look, Sergeant," Clint demanded. "Do something."

"Awful mouthy for someone in this position," Bucky said, running his hand down Clint's back to his ass, pressing against the plug, making it rock just a little and pulling a groan from Clint.

"So give me a reason to shut up," Clint said.

Bucky sank to his knees behind Clint, and pulled gently on the plug, pulling it out just a little, before releasing to settle back into place. "You know, I've already come once tonight," he said. "I could just leave you like this."

"I'll be good," Clint said immediately. "I'll be _so_ good, Sergeant. I need your cock _so_ bad."

"I bet you do." Bucky pulled the plug all the way out, watching as Clint's hole twitched at the sudden emptiness. Leaning forward, he pressed a sucking kiss to the ring of muscle, before coming back to his feet. It didn't take long to get a rubber out and on his cock, and the tightness pushed him back from the edge, making him hiss at the feel of his own hand on his cock.

Smoothing lube over the length, he said, "Tell me now if you need me to stretch you more."

"Nope, not at all, goo - " Clint drifted off to a groan as Bucky lined up and started to sink in one long slick slide, only stopping when he was in all the way..

He'd been imagining fucking Clint's ass since they'd started this thing, and nothing that had gone through his head was anywhere close to the reality. Clint was hot and tight and just absolutely _perfect_ around Bucky's cock. He didn't give Clint any time to adjust. Instead, he set up a forceful, quick rhythm. Clint had said he could have a dry orgasm with the gates on, but Bucky had no interest in making it easy for him.

His hands were locked to Clint's hips, and he knew he was probably leaving bruises with the metal one, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had to fuck Clint's ass, had to fuck it hard and deep until Clint was crying for it.

It didn't take long to get that - Clint was urging him on practically from the start, and Bucky couldn't help but respond to his words and the dirty gasps and groans coming from Clint. He found the perfect rhythm, balancing his need to come and his need to never stop fucking Clint, and Clint seemed to appreciate it if his cries meant anything.

Suddenly, Clint grew impossibly tight around his cock, his voice spiraling up into a crescendo of sound that seemed to go right to Bucky's balls. "Sir - Sergeant - I'm gonna... I'm gonna," he cried.

"You going to come dry for me?" Bucky demanded. "Let me feel that."

"Just... Just - " and Clint went silent, every muscle clenching down tight, his hole fluttering hard around Bucky's cock. And just like that, the last of Bucky's control snapped, and he started to slam in, even harder and deeper. With one last thrust, he buried himself as far as he could go, and it felt like his balls were turning themselves inside out as he came hard, filling the condom.

As he shook his way through the aftershocks, he bent forward, pressing his forehead to the middle of Clint's back. "God," he said, his voice as wrecked as the rest of him.

"You said it," Clint said. "But I have to stand up, please?"

Yeah, Bucky figured Clint was probably starting to have trouble breathing, so he pulled out slowly, holding the base of the condom. Once he was clear, he ignored the mess in favor of making sure that Clint was solidly on his feet, wrapping his arms around Clint's chest and burying his face in the crook of Clint's neck, smelling sweat and sex and total satisfaction.

They stood like that for a while before Bucky could bring himself to let go. He helped Clint turn around and yeah, the partial erection he'd had the whole time they were playing was mostly gone. "You really did come," Bucky marveled.

"Told you I could," and oh, Clint's voice did dangerous things to his insides. It was positively shredded, and from the sound of it, everyone who talked to him for the next few days was going to know he'd gotten up to something.

Carefully, a little concerned that Clint might be oversensitive, Bucky worked the gates off of his cock, and then dealt with the condom still on his own cock. Disposing of that, he followed Clint around to the other side of the sofa and sat down. When Clint plopped down next to him, pressing in close, he wrapped his arm around Clint and held him close, and just breathed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Bucky are dumbasses who don't communicate, rope suspension, rope bondage

Now that fucking was firmly on the table, they both seemed to need it almost constantly. If it wasn’t Bucky showing up at Clint’s apartment, then Clint was searching out Bucky and dragging him to out of the way corners. The one last line that they hadn’t crossed was Clint hadn’t gone into Bucky’s apartment. Bucky hadn’t _forbidden_ it, but he also didn’t invite Clint over, and that was pretty clear.

But Clint had been waiting for Bucky to come out of his apartment all day. He wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t in any of the public areas, and Clint wanted to play. So he decided that he’d risk Steve being disapproving to his face and went knock on their door.

He was still five feet away from the door when he realized that he could hear raised voices. He would have just walked away, but then he heard Steve, just as clearly as if there was nothing between them, say, “I don’t understand, Bucky. If it’s not that important, then why are you so fixated on _Clint_?”

That got his attention in a big way, and so instead of walking away, he got as close to the door as he could. Steve continued, “He’s a nice guy, good fighter, but why can’t you find someone who’s _safe_? And do you have to do this crazy stuff at whatever this club is? Find a nice girl - or guy, fine - date, have a relationship?”

Clint wasn’t sure what he expected Bucky to say to that. It wasn’t like either of them had made any promises or even implied that this was more than a good time. But he was still hurt to hear Bucky yell, “Jesus Christ, Steve! Clint is a nice guy and _that’s all_. If either of us are fixated on him, it would be _you_. Let it go, already!”

He knew that Natasha would tell him that eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves. Of course, she’d say it while her ear was pressed to the door, so the source was suspect, but the fact was that it was true. It still hurt to be denied like that, though. He thought that he and Bucky were at least friends, but clearly he was wrong about that.

Fine.

_Fine_.

He went back to his apartment, and dressed with a care that he didn’t usually bother with. He picked his tightest jeans, the ones that let casual viewers see the lines of his underwear, to go with a skin-tight sleeveless shirt. And then he headed down to the club. If he wasn’t important to Bucky, he’d find someone else to play with, someone else that he could scratch his itch with.

Since that’s apparently all he meant to Bucky.

He fumed all the way to the club, and when he got to the front desk, his face must have been something to see, because Derek didn’t say anything except asking for the cover charge. He paid and headed straight to the bar. Grabbing a bottle of beer, he drank half of it in one long swallow. He’d barely finished it before he was requesting a second one, but it wasn’t safe to get drunk with no one to watch his back. And besides, if he was visibly trashed, he’d be forbidden to play at best and told to leave at worst.

So he grabbed his second beer and started to prowl through the back room, looking for someone who didn’t seem to be there with someone. His first three laps through the warehouse were fruitless, but on the fourth time, he found Joe, standing next to one of the hard tie points, lying out his rope. Perfect - other than the one time, rope wasn’t something he’d done with Bucky, so he’d be distracted from the fact that Bucky was a complete shithead by playing with it.

Clint carefully schooled his face to be less threatening and with a fake smile, went over. “Hey, Joe,” he said.

Joe looked up from where he was carefully sorting the various bundles of rope. “Hey, Clint. I’ve seen you a few times lately, but you’ve usually seemed busy.” He then looked around, a confused look on his face. “Thought you had a new partner? He running late?”

“Eh, he’s just a…”. What, Clint? What was Bucky? “He’s just a guy I play with sometimes. You got someone these days?”

“Nah,” Joe said, with a grin. “You know me - too busy playing with all the rope bunnies to put in the work to get a relationship. So if he’s not coming, does that mean you’re free tonight?”

“Fun and fancy free,” Clint said. “You interested in playing?”

“If I remember right, you’re pretty good at suspension?” Joe asked. “I’ve got some new ties to practice, but you might end up upside down.”

Clint grinned, not having to force it this time. Joe was exactly what he seemed to be - a guy whose deep abiding passion was tying people up in new and creative ways. If there was more to Joe, Clint had never found it.

“Sounds perfect for the way I feel tonight,” he said. 

“Want to strip off then? Leave your underwear on, though.” With that, Joe returned his attention to his rope, pulling out the steel ring to attach it to the tie point.

As Clint took off his clothes, he wondered why he’d thought skin-tight was a good idea. It was certainly harder to get out of than his normal clothes. But pretty soon he was down to his shorts, standing next to Joe, who looked him over clinically. “Any joint issues?”

“Try not to put too much pressure on my elbows,” Clint said. His shoulders could take it, but he didn’t want to have trouble pulling his bow because he’d stressed an elbow. It would be a damn stupid reason to be grounded.

“Okay, I can work with that. Your knees good?”

“Peachy-keen,” Clint said. 

“Then let’s get started.” Joe started by tying Clint in a rope harness. Clint knew that the point was too give Joe lots of places that he could use to secure other ropes to, but that didn’t matter. The rope, rough in some places and smooth in others, slid over his skin like a tight hug.

As his arms were tied behind his back, he felt like he was being watched. Opening his eyes (when had he closed them?), he found that there was a small audience watching quietly.

And Bucky standing in the back, staring at him.

Clint couldn’t help but stare back. He was still angry and hurt, and right here was the perfect opportunity to get a bit of his own back. So he stared back as he moved as Joe directed, until he was hoisted off his feet, and then he had no control over how he was moved at all.

Joe hadn’t been lying - Clint ended up with his knees above his head, most of his weight on one thigh and his waist. Through it all, Bucky never stopped looking, and Clint found himself trying to make a show of it, demonstrating what Bucky had had in his hands. 

When Joe declared himself done, he set Clint to spinning slowly, and Clint had to close his eyes as the room twisted. He didn’t feel like he was floating - if anything, he felt even heavier than usual with his weight distributed as it was - but that was half the fun of suspension. It rooted him to his body in a way that most play didn’t.

Joe’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t a surprise, but his voice in Clint’s ear was. “Your friend is here, and I think he wants to kill me.”

That got Clint to open his eyes, and oh, yeah, Bucky was _pissed_. Clint couldn’t bring himself to care, honestly. “He won’t hurt you, Joe,” Clint said, pitching his voice so that Bucky could hear him. “We just play sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he thinks that,” Joe said. “I’m getting you down before I get punched.”

Clint sighed. “Fine, Joe,” he said, and then focused on the moment as Joe systematically untied the ropes in some pattern that only he knew so that Clint was never left hanging by just one tie point. By the time he was on the ground, most of his good feeling had fled.

Joe helped him to his feet, and then set about undoing the harness. As the last of the rope fell away, Clint felt more naked than he’d ever felt here - and that included times he’d been fucked in the sling with an audience ten deep. “You know, Clint,” Joe said. “I know your relationships are none of my business but it’s not cool to involve other people in your problems.”

Clint didn’t know how to even begin to explain that that wasn’t what he’d been trying to do. He had no idea why Bucky was even _here_. Obviously, he’d been looking for pick up play too, or he would have arranged to come with Clint.

“Sorry, Joe,” he sighed. “That wasn’t what I was trying to do. I loved our scene, though.”

“Glad you had fun,” Joe said. “Now, go settle him down before he burns the club to the ground, would you?”

Saying anything further to Joe was a waste of his breath, so he nodded, gathered up his clothes, and stepped away, ignoring Bucky, who was still staring at him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of rope bondage, but mostly the boys fighting

Bucky wasn’t really angry. It was much more complicated than that. When Clint hadn’t answered his door or been in any of the public spaces, Bucky had asked JARVIS if he knew where Clint was. Hearing that he’d left the building, and seeing on the video that he was in clubbing clothes had hit Bucky like a punch to the solar plexus. 

All the way to the club, he’d tried to convince himself that he was wrong - that Clint had been going somewhere else dressed like _that_. And then he’d found him mostly naked, with another man’s hands all over him, and every sign that he was enjoying it.

He’d watched Clint’s scene without interfering. They’d made no promises, and besides, interfering with someone else’s scene was the fastest way to get banned. Though if he and Clint were over, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to come back here anyway. As Clint swung in his rope-web, his hands itched with the need to push the other man away, to cut down Clint and then make sure that he never went to someone else again.

The stranger who was touching Clint stopped his spin and leaned forward to whisper something in Clint’s ear. Clint’s eyes popped open and met Bucky’s and he said “He won’t hurt you, Joe. We just play sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Bucky worked hard to keep his face impassive at those words. It was all he deserved if he’d failed to give Clint something he needed and made it impossible for him to ask for it.

Joe didn’t look as if he believed Clint, and his hands started to move swiftly, untying the ropes that held Clint four feet off the ground. It was all Bucky could do not to step forward, to make sure that Clint didn’t fall. Eventually, though, the last of the rope was gone, and with a last few words, Joe turned away from Clint.

Clint was clearly pissed, gathering his clothes together and starting across the floor without a word to Bucky. For a moment, Bucky was torn. He didn’t want to force his attention on Clint if it was unwelcome, but he wanted to at least _try_ to sort it out. So he followed him.

He tracked Clint to a quiet corner of the club, where he was swearing as he tried to get back into his clothes. “Clint?” Bucky said, trying hard not to sound angry. He wasn’t very good at it.

“What is it, Bucky?” Clint asked. “I thought you weren’t _fixated_ on me. Following me makes me think that you’re either lying to Steve or to yourself.”

Oh. Shit. “You heard that?” Bucky said, dumbly, stupidly, because clearly Clint had heard it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have used that word.

“Yeah, I heard it. I don’t mean anything. So it shouldn’t matter that I’m playing with someone else. After all, Steve’s the one obsessing on your ‘relationship’ with me - I don’t mean anything to _you_ , right?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky said. “I - Clint - I didn’t mean it like that!”

Clint stopped fighting with his jeans and turned to glare at him. “How the hell else could you have meant it, Bucky? I’m just a nice guy, but clearly not one you’re willing to fight Steve for. So, fine, leave me alone.”

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Bad enough that he’d spent the afternoon being hassled half to death by Steve and analyzed by Sam. But it had apparently fucked up the one good thing that he had in his life right now, and he didn’t know how to fix it. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Clint, I’m sorry. You _are_ important to me.”

Throwing the tangled up jeans on the floor, Clint turned to face him, his hands tight fists on his hips. “You have a strange fucking way to show it. You know, I can accept us being fuckbuddies. I can deal with you not being ready for something more serious than that, but I can’t deal with you spending all your time pouncing on me, only to deny me just as soon as I’m out of hearing. Make up your mind, Bucky. Until you do, leave me the fuck alone.”

He wanted to touch Clint, wanted to get him to feel that Bucky wanted him so badly that he was shaking with it, but he didn’t dare. Not when Clint was this mad at him. “You’re right,” he said, instead. “It’s not fair to you. I never meant - it doesn’t matter what I meant. I should have been clear to you and to Steve and to Sam. You’re not just a fuckbuddy. I don’t think you ever were,” Bucky forced out. “I just… I spent the afternoon getting hammered by Steve who I love like a brother, but, Jesus, he thinks he knows better than I do about what I need, and it just got to me. You heard the absolute worst part of that argument, because about ten minutes later I told Steve to get fucked and left.”

Clint rubbed his shoulders as if he was cold, and Bucky moved closer, still not touching but trying to telegraph how badly he wanted to. “Really?” Clint asked.

“Really,” Bucky said. "I'm sorry... Can I - Can I do something to make it up to you?"

Closing his eyes, Clint visibly took several deep breaths, and Bucky held his, waiting to find out if the best thing that had happened to him since coming in out of the cold was over. Finally, Clint opened his eyes again and said simply, "I'm too angry to have this discussion rationally right now. I will accept that you didn't mean it the way it sounded. But eventually, you're going to have to decide what I mean to you, and you're going to have to be honest with both yourself and Steve in the process. I don't want to be - I _won't_ be jerked around like that. It's not fair to either of us."

This last thing that Bucky wanted was to talk about emotions even more today, so he was grateful for the reprieve, however it short it might prove to be. "Fair enough," he said. Clint still looked cold, so Bucky added, "Can I touch you?"

"Yeah," Clint said on a sigh. "Yeah, you can."

Bucky carefully wrapped Clint up in a hug, tight enough that he could feel Clint shivering. It didn't feel that cold in the club to Bucky, but he suspected that at least some of it was emotional overload. Clint had shown over the last few months that he liked dealing with emotions about as much as Bucky did himself, and confronting Bucky over what he'd heard had probably been more drama that Clint had wanted to deal with tonight.

As he rubbed his hands up and down Clint's arms, he said, "So, saw your scene. I knew that Ph - you had a lot of rope, but you really seemed to enjoy being hung up like that. I didn't know that."

"What? Suspension? Yeah, it's fun. Phil wasn't a rigger, so if I wanted to get hung up, he'd turn me over to Joe or one of the other guys who specialize in it."

That surprised Bucky, because he couldn't imagine willingly let someone touch Clint so intimately. "Phil didn't mind?"

Clint pulled back to meet Bucky's gaze, his expression serious and little sad. "Bucky, Phil and I had been together ten years when he died. He'd long since come to accept that there were things that I liked that he didn't want to do. Some of them, like the candle wax, I just gave up. But others - well, rope suspension is a skill. He didn't mind letting a specialist handle it on the rare occasions I really wanted to do it. And he'd long since gotten over feeling like I was going to leave him for someone's ability to tie a knot."

Oh. That was a lot to take in and felt a bit like a slap to the face. Bucky was aware that in the kink community, some things just weren't considered sexual, and that it wasn't a big deal to do with someone else. But the way he'd felt watching Joe touch Clint made his guts clench unpleasantly. "Is it something you want me to learn?" he asked instead of demanding that Clint never play with anyone else, _ever_. He wasn't ready to get into that conversation right this minute.

"If you want," Clint said with a shrug. "Honestly, I'm not usually in the mood to be hung up like that, but I wouldn't mind being tied up and at your mercy." Clint gave him a leer, but it was clearly just pasted on and his heart wasn't really in it. 

Bucky knew that with enough time, he'd be able to learn to do suspension work if Clint wanted it, but in the meantime, this was something he could give him in the here and now. "How about we go talk to your friend, see if he'll teach me some basic knots?" he offered.

"I think Joe is too scared of you for it to be fair of you to ask," Clint said, but there was some actual humor in his voice, and that made Bucky feel a thousand times better.

"I'll apologize to him for scaring him," Bucky said sincerely. "I can be good, I promise."

Clint studied his face for a long moment, and Bucky worked on looking like he meant it. He didn't want to have the threatened conversation with Clint, but it wasn't fair of him to scare an innocent bystander. That was something the Winter Soldier did, not Bucky Barnes.

"Okay. Let me get my jeans on," Clint said, "and we'll see if we can find Joe."

Bucky gave Clint a quick squeeze and then let go. Clint looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead turned his attention back to untangling his jeans. It said something about how upset Clint had been when he'd started the scene with Joe, because most of the time he still folded his clothes neatly and set them aside before he started doing anything.

He watched Clint hop on one foot as he tried to get the other leg of the jeans up, and didn't even try to hide his amusement. "Are you sure that those are yours and not Natasha's?" Bucky teased a little. "They seem a little small."

"Aw, shut it," Clint said, finally getting them settled and buttoning the fly. "I was mad and not thinking very clearly about ease of dressing and undressing."

"I'm - " Bucky started to apologize.

Clint held up one hand. "Not talking about it right now," he said. "Fine, let's go find Joe."

Bucky nodded, biting his lip to keep from saying anything, and followed Clint, who was still topless, as he walked back over to the hard tie point. Joe hadn't gone far - he was still cleaning up the ropes that he'd used on Clint in their scene.

Before Clint could prompt him, Bucky said, "I'm sorry if I worried you, Joe. Today hasn't been the greatest day."

Joe met his eyes evenly. "You know, I've known Clint for a long time," he said. "Me tying him up didn't mean anything."

"That's what Clint said," Bucky said. "I'd like - maybe you can show me some of what you do?" He tried to look as non-scary as possible. He knew that he could never look completely unthreatening - just the way he walked was enough for him to be scary for some people - but apparently it appeased Joe.

"I can't show you suspension in one night," Joe said. "It takes time. But I know that Clint likes rope, so I can show you a basic chest harness, and he knows some websites where you can learn a lot of different techniques. If you like it and want to take it farther, there's a rope interest group that meets once a month."

Clint laughed a little, interrupting the conversation. "Joe, stop trying to get everyone to come to that. Not everyone is that serious about rope. But yeah, show him a chest harness. Could be fun - and useful." This time, the leer that Clint turned Bucky's way was a lot more honest, which made Bucky feel better.

"Just doing my duty to the community," Joe said, but he picked up one of the pieces of rope that was still loose from its bundle. Bucky turned his focus to Joe as he explained how long the rope needed to be and how to mark the middle point. Then he folded the rope in half and handed it to Bucky. "Okay, you're going to do this while I tell you," Joe said.

Bucky knew enough from watching other scenes that that wasn't how demos usually worked, but after the scare he'd given Joe, he couldn't blame the man for not wanting to touch Clint while Bucky was standing right there.

As Joe walked him through wrapping the rope around Clint's chest and over his shoulders, he could see just how useful this might be for other scenes that they might do. And from the way that Clint's expression softened and grew glazed, it was certainly working for him. As Joe showed him how to bind it off by securing Clint's arms behind his back, Clint made a soft sound that Bucky recognized from many nights of making Clint come - or rather, wait to come. 

He wasn't doing _that_ with anyone else standing right there - not when things were so uncertain between the two of them still - but it didn't mean that he didn't want to. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to Clint's shoulder, right next to the rope, and said, "Maybe next time," his voice just barely loud enough for Clint to hear it over the club's music. 

Joe then reversed the process, showing him how to untie everything, before making him repeat it with minimal instruction. Thankfully, Bucky was already pretty good with rope, even if he didn't like how he'd gotten that way, so he managed it without too much of a hiccup. 

As he untied the last rope, Joe said, "Seriously, think about coming to the rope group. You learn fast - you could be a pretty decent rigger with some training."

"I'll think about it," Bucky said, handing over the rope, his other hand on Clint's warm back. "I think that maybe it's time for us to head out for tonight though."

Clint started to say something, probably to argue that they should go back separately, but Bucky just turned Clint around so that Bucky could meet his eyes. "Please," he said, trying to put just how sorry he was in that one word.

Thankfully, Clint just nodded. 

They made their way back to Manhattan together, but when they got to the tower, Clint said, "I know you're sorry, but I need to be alone tonight. Okay?"

"Whatever you need," Bucky said. "But we'll talk soon, right?"

Clint smiled, the expression barely reaching his eyes. "Sure. Soon." He got off the elevator on his own floor, and the last thing Bucky saw as the doors closed was Clint staring at him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No kinks, but Natasha is a bro

Natasha had watched as Clint had moped his way around the tower for three days. She was well aware of the developing relationship between Clint and Bucky. After all, she was the one who had known that Bucky was going to the club that Clint and Phil had favored and reported that while he was going out, he wasn’t meeting up with anyone worth being worried about. She'd actually been at the club the night that they hooked up - she assumed for the first time - and had been pretty pleased that Clint was finally going out again.

When Clint and Bucky started to be more than associates - friends and playmates and whatever else - she hadn’t been surprised. Clint liked for people who didn't know him well to think he was a loner, but she’d known about his love of Phil and how deeply he had been grieving. And she was happy to see that some of the life was coming back into his eyes and his step as he spent more time with Bucky.

She still wasn’t sure about Bucky, though. She knew that they’d manage to clear his triggers, and she knew better than most about how brainwashing worked, but she didn’t know him well enough to judge his motives when it came to Clint. She had been watching carefully, trying to straddle the line between protecting Clint and coddling him.

And now this. Clint wasn’t as depressed as he’d been after Phil’s death, but he was clearly unhappy, and she was not going to just stand by and let it go on. Obviously, Bucky had done something, and she just needed to find out what it was and if she needed to kill him. Steve would be mad, but it might be worth it.

So she waited until early on a Tuesday morning, late enough that Clint was likely to be awake, but unlikely to be thoroughly caffeinated, and knocked on his door, calling out, “Clint? You in there?”

She could hear him fumbling around with the door, and when it opened, he was hanging on the frame like it was the only thing holding him up. “What do you want, Nat?” he asked, clearly hungover. Even better.

“We need to talk,” she said, pushing past him and into his apartment. There was a whole row of empty beer bottles on the coffee table, and every sign that Clint had spent a substantial amount of time on the couch in the last few days.

“Today’s not a great day for it,” Clint said. “I’m not feeling too hot.”

She turned to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn’t showered in a couple of days. “I bet you’re not,” she said. “But this can’t wait.”

“Unless it’s a call out, it’s waiting until I have some coffee,” he said flatly, turning his back on her and walking to the kitchen. She waited, watching as he poured a large mug of coffee and blew on it to cool it before taking a long sip.

“Sit down,” she said as soon as he came back out in the living room. 

“What? Are you here to tell me someone else is dead?” he asked, and her stomach clenched. He really was upset if he was bringing up that terrible time when she’d had to be the one to tell him about Phil’s death.

“No, no one is dead,” she said, trying to sound - well, not gentle, gentle would make Clint more suspicious. Relaxed. Relaxed was what she should go for. “Come on, sit. Drink your coffee.”

Clint settled onto the couch, clutching his mug of coffee like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. He looked so woebegone that Natasha threw out all of the subtlety that she'd planned on. "What did he do?" she asked.

"He who?" Clint responded, but he wasn't meeting her eyes.

"Clint? You really think you can keep a secret? From me?" she asked. She couldn't help it - a bit of humor crept into her voice. "Besides, I'm pretty sure most of the team has twigged that there's something going on between you and Bucky."

Clint's jaw tightened. "There's - that's over. I'm not doing that anymore."

"So I ask again, what did he do? Do I need to kick his ass?" Natasha asked patiently.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, then Clint drank the rest of his mug of coffee and slammed it down on the coffee table. "Nothing. That's what he did. Absolutely nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Natasha said, staying calm and ignoring Clint's uncharacteristic outburst. "It looks like something that has upset you pretty badly."

With a deep sigh, Clint settled further back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Emotions got involved. You know how much I _love_ it when emotions get involved. Especially when they're just on my side."

Natasha thought about the fact that Bucky had been as scarce as Clint the last few days, and wondered about that. "So, what - you like him more than he likes you? Are you sure about that?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" Clint asked. "He knows where I am, and he hasn't exactly been knocking down my door to discuss the fi- the reason that I'm upset. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure I like him more than he likes me."

Pouncing on the cut off word, she said, "So you two did have some sort of fight. Clint, you know that things said during fights never mean what you think they do, right? Didn't you learn that with Phil?"

Clint said nothing.

Reining in her frustration, Natasha said, "So, what set it off? Did you ask for something he couldn't give you? Did negotiations go badly? Come on, Clint, you know I'm going to keep asking until you tell me what the hell is going on, so you might as well just tell me already."

There was a subtle shift in Clint's posture. It wasn't something most people would have noticed, but Natasha was not most people, and had spent her life learning to read microscopic things that carried the weight of worlds. "Clint, you have done some sort of negotiation with him, right? Talked about what you want and need from this?"

This time, Clint turned his head, staring at the wall and not so incidentally looking the opposite direction from Natasha. 

Natasha wasn't able to resist. She reached out and gave Clint a sharp smack across the back of his head. "Do _not_ tell me that you've been getting into BDSM activities with _anyone_ , much less the _Winter Soldier_ without explicit negotiation."

Clint sat upright and met her eyes squarely. "Don't call him that again," he said furiously. "He's not _that_ anymore."

Holding up her hands placatingly, Natasha said, "Fine, Bucky Barnes. The fact remains, even if he wasn't a supersoldier, you know better to do any of this without negotiation. Phil taught you better than that years ago."

The furious look on Clint's face gradually melted away, and he brought up his hand to rub the spot that Natasha had smacked. "It seemed - it was going so well, I thought it wasn't really necessary. And it wasn't a scene that went bad, anyway. Like I said, it was emotions. They always bite me in the ass."

"Okay, so it wasn't a scene, it was _feelings_. Those are just as important to talk about, you know that." 

Rolling his eyes, Clint said, "Right. Coming from you, that's really rich. When's the last time you let your feelings get in the way of something?"

That stung, and stung badly. Natasha couldn't control the flinch. "Right now, actually," she said, unable to hide the fact that she was hurt. "If I didn't care about you, I'd let you stew in your own juices forever."

Clint sighed. "I'm sorry, Nat. You managed to poke a sore spot, but you didn't deserve that." Clint reached out and put his hand on top of hers. "Do you really want to talk about this, or do you just want to poke me until I go talk to him?"

She couldn't help laughing a little. "Depends. Question remains, do I need to kick his ass?"

"Nah," Clint said, giving her hand a squeeze. "I guess - I didn't realize that I was... Well, that I cared about him as much as I did until I realized that he didn't feel the same way. And it hurt more than I expected."

"You know, you're not the only one who's been hiding," Natasha said. "Even Tony has commented on it, and you know that Pepper has all the social skills there."

Clint looked thoughtful. "Really? Huh."

"Yes, he's barely left that apartment all weekend. And Steve has barely gone in, so clearly there's something going on there, because you know where Bucky goes, so goes Cap."

"What about Sam?" Clint asked.

"He's been huddling with Steve every time I turn around, but they've been too quiet for me to hear," Natasha said.

Rolling his eyes a second time, Clint said, "Right. Too quiet for _you_ to eavesdrop on. Pull the other one."

"Okay, fine," Natasha said. "Maybe I listened just enough to know that Steve and Bucky are fighting over something, and that Steve is giving him _space_. More than that, I didn't actually care about. I was more worried about my best friend."

"Aww," Clint said, his voice saccharine sweet. "You really like me." Standing up from the couch, he started to move in for a hug, one that she fended off while laughing.

"You stink, Clint," she said. "You want to hug me, you need a shower first."

He stuck out his bottom lip, and she laughed again. This was more like the Clint she was used to. But she knew he was at least partially using his behavior to distract her, and she refused to be distracted. "You need to talk to him, you know."

Flopping back onto the sofa, Clint groaned. "Do I have to? Can't I just write a note? I've seen it in after school movies - Do you like me? Check yes or no."

This time it was Natasha rolling her eyes. "No, you need to talk to him like a grown up. About what you want, what you need. And you need to talk about the kink too - or something is going to go wrong. If you're lucky, all you'll end up with is needing to use your safeword."

Clint's gaze darted back to the wall, and Natasha sat up slowly. "Clint - you did at least talk to him about your safeword, right? He knows you don't use red, right?"

"It hasn't been an issue," Clint said defensively. "We haven't even come close to my limits."

"Not cool," she said. "If he hurt you accidentally because he didn't realize that Budapest meant stop, don't you think he'd blame himself? Worse, what if SHIELD blames him? You know that there are people who still think he should be locked up. This could give them the justification they need."

With a low growl, Clint said, "Fine. I'll talk to him, but he has to talk to me too. Like I said, he hasn't exactly been beating down my door."

"I'm going to take care of that," Natasha said. 

"No, Natasha," Clint said, his voice spiraling up. "You are not going to go talk to Bucky about me. That's just not cool."

"Nope," she said, popping the p. "I'm going to talk to Rogers. After I'm done with him, _he'll_ talk to Barnes."

"Aww, Jesus, no, Nat," Clint said, but Natasha was already on her feet.

"Take a shower," she said. "Drink some water. Eat some real food. I'm pretty sure Barnes'll be down soon."

"I mean it, Nat, I don't need you to get involved here," Clint said.

"I'm your best friend," Nat said. "I'm already involved. Unless you're willing to go talk to Barnes in the apartment that he shares with Rogers and Wilson, he needs to come down here." Clint looked pained, and Natasha decided to throw him a bone. "I promise not to get into the nitty-gritty of your relationship with Rogers. That's between Barnes and you. But I am going to give him a kick in the ass, because I'll bet he's at least part of the reason for this."

Clint's lack of denial spoke volumes, and Natasha nodded at his continued silence. "I mean it. Go shower. We'll get this dealt with today."

"Fine," Clint said. "You're not going to stop until you get your way. I know that."

"Damn straight." Standing up, she pressed a kiss to Clint's forehead. "I love you, Clint. I want what's best for you."

"You think that's Bucky?" Clint asked, looking surprised.

"I'm not sure about it," she admitted. "But clearly you do, so I'm going to see what I can do to help."

"Thanks, Nat," Clint said, his voice sincere.

"You're welcome. Now, go on, go," she said, and stood there, staring at him until he got up as well, grabbing a handful of beer bottles off the coffee table and taking them to the kitchen to put in the recycling. Only then did she let herself out.

Next up, Rogers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No kinks - just Steve getting his head out of his ass

Steve's ears were still burning from the round scolding he'd gotten from Natasha. He knew that Bucky was taking this - argument, fight, whatever it was - hard, but he hadn't realized that it had been impacting Clint quite that much. For that matter, he'd found himself confessing to Natasha that he'd been afraid that Clint was just playing games with Bucky, and that Bucky was going to get hurt if he got too involved.

He'd been thoroughly disabused of that assumption. It had definitely included words that he hadn't heard hurled his way in seventy years, and never by a woman. Not even by Maria Hill.

It didn't help that Natasha hadn't bothered to get him alone - instead catching him with Sam and saying pretty much the same thing that Sam had been trying to get him to see for the last three days. When she'd left, Sam had raised an eyebrow and said, "Now, you going to keep your head up your ass, Rogers? Or are you going to do the smart thing for once?"

Ouch.

So here he was, standing in front of the door to Bucky's room, trying to steel himself for the coming conversation. He was going to have to grovel, he suspected. He hated groveling.

He still hadn't convinced himself to knock when the door opened. "I can hear you thinking on the other side of the door," Bucky said, and he looked _terrible_. He looked as if he hadn't slept in three days, with deep circles under his eyes and stubble thickly coating his face.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked, trying to sound non-confrontational.

"Do you mean, will I sit here and listen as you lecture me some more? No, I think I'll pass on that, thanks. If that's all - " Bucky started to close the door.

Steve put his hand out to keep him from getting it all the way shut. "No lecture, I promise. I just want to talk to you."

Bucky hesitated then gave a short, sharp nod. "Fine, let's get this over with," he said, stepping back and letting Steve into his room.

As always, it was cleaned with military precision. Even these days, when Bucky had more than just his uniforms, Steve never saw anything out of place in Bucky's room, and it always made his heart twist a little. In the days, well, the days before, Bucky hadn't exactly been a slob. But this regimented way of putting everything away immediately was just another reminder of all that had happened.

"So, what is it this time?" Bucky asked, sitting on the corner of the made bed.

Steve grabbed the desk chair and rolled it over so that he could sit facing Bucky, putting their eyes level with each other. "I may have... overreacted a little," he admitted.

"Is that what we're going to call it?" Bucky asked. "You accused me of being emotionally manipulated by Clint, of being an abuse victim, and have apparently decided that I'm not able to decide on my own intimate partners. But sure, let's call that an overreaction."

Put out there that bluntly, Steve could finally see what Sam had been trying to tell him about the way that he'd been too over-controlling. "I'm sorry," he said, simply. "I didn't mean - well, what I meant doesn't matter. You're a grown man, I shouldn't be trying to second guess your relationships."

"No, you shouldn't have been." Bucky stood up. "If that's all you have to say, you can go now. I'll come out when I'm not going to bite someone's head off."

Steve had a split second thought of high-tailing out of there. Bucky wouldn't stay mad at him. He'd never managed to go longer than a week even when Steve was his most bone-headed. Then he remembered Natasha's face, and realized that if he ever wanted to sleep again without having to keep one eye open, he needed to say it all.

"I think," he said and then stopped, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"What now?" Bucky demanded. "What do you think?"

Steve sighed and tried again. "You've been mostly happy since you started seeing Clint," he admitted quietly. "I think I didn't want to see that because it meant that Clint had succeeded where I had failed, and that hurt."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You're a punk," he said. "You've always been my best friend. You're always going to _be_ my best friend, assuming you get your head out of your ass. You don't need to feel threatened by anyone. I'm not threatened by Sam, am I?"

"No," Steve said quietly. "You aren't. And in some ways, that made it feel worse, which I know is thick-headed and stupid and whatever else you want to throw at me. But there it is. I was afraid that you were going to replace me with Clint, and I think that at some level I believed that the only reason that could be happening was if Clint was using your conditioning against you."

Bucky turned around, grabbed the pillow off the bed, and walloped Steve in the face with it.

Shocked, all Steve could do was sit there and blink. Then he started to giggle. "Did you really just hit me with a pillow?"

"Yes, I did." Bucky held up the pillow threateningly. "And I'll do it again if I have to."

"No, no, not the pillow!" Steve cried, as dramatically as he possibly could. Then he sobered and said, "I really am sorry, Bucky. Forgive me?"

Bucky ran his hand through his hair and then smiled, suddenly looking twenty years younger. "Always, punk. Now, go away. I still have brooding to do."

Steve bit his lip and then blurted out, "About that."

"Yes?" Bucky's voice was quiet and even, and Steve knew he was on very, very thin ice.

"So, maybe I might have had some help in seeing that I was wrong?" Steve said, trying to sound innocent.

"Sam, of course," Bucky said, nodding.

Steve swallowed. "And Natasha."

Bucky stared at him. "Natasha confronted you. Over my relationship with Clint?"

"Yes?"

"What did Natasha have to say about my relationship with Clint, Steve?"

Steve felt a little better. At least he wasn't the only one on shaky ground. Now Natasha was there too, whether or not she knew it. Of course, Steve suspected that she knew it would happen - she just didn't care.

"She wants you to go down to his apartment and talk to him." Steve had to be a little proud that he hadn't turned that into a question. A good, solid statement of fact. That was what Natasha wanted. "Whether or not you do it is up to you, though."

"Oh, it is, is it? Did she say that that was what Clint wanted? Or is he being railroaded into this too?"

"I think maybe?" Steve had to admit. "But I also have to say that you've been happy with Clint, and if you have a chance to get that back, it's worth a try. If you didn't even have that chance, she wouldn't have suggested it."

"Fine." 

Steve thought to himself that Bucky sounded almost like he was looking forward to seeing Clint again, even if it could possibly blow up in his face. Then he realized that he was doing the same thing he'd been doing all along, and mentally slapped _himself_ in the face with a pillow. Bucky deserved to be happy, with whoever he wanted. "Might want to clean up first," is all he said.

"You think I should go now?" Bucky said, sounding a little uncertain suddenly. "What if he's not really wanting to see me?"

"Better to find that out, right?" Steve said. "Come on, get cleaned up and go down. Need me to walk with you?"

Just like he'd meant it to, that put some starch in Bucky's spine. "Okay, I'll shower and head down. You're not going to try to have JARVIS listen or anything are you?"

"You know he doesn't do that even if we ask," Steve said. "And I won't ask. But you might want to shave while you're in the shower."

Bucky ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully. "Guess you may have a point there," he said. He started to wander towards the bathroom, then turned around and said, "You know, Steve? Even when I'm mad at you, you're my best friend. Don't forget that again, okay?"

"Okay, Buck." Steve said, standing up. "Now, since I have no interest in seeing you naked, I'll leave that to Clint and maybe go for a run."

"You do that," Bucky said, and closed the bathroom door.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally start to talk

Clean, Bucky dressed with a care that he didn’t usually use in the tower. When he went back in the living area, Steve was there, but rather than another fight, he gave Bucky a thumbs up and an encouraging smile.

Stepping out of the apartment, he looked up at the ceiling and said, “JARVIS, is Clint in his apartment?”

“No, Sergeant Barnes. He’s in the central kitchen with Doctor Banner.”

Well, fuck. Bucky thought about just going back into his apartment and waiting for JARVIS to tell him that Clint had gone back to his. At the same time, he had to admit that he _missed_ Clint, and he didn’t really want to wait. 

Mind made up, he headed up the stairs to the penthouse, where the central kitchen was located. He could hear voices before he got there, Clint and Bruce talking softly. He didn’t know whether to wait and see if he could hear something from them or go in, when the decision was made for him by Tony coming up behind him on the stairs. “Hey, Bucky,” Tony said, loudly enough that it was heard in the kitchen.

Clint’s voice cut out as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped, and for a moment Bucky thought he might have actually left the kitchen. Only one way to find out - Bucky sucked in a breath and followed behind Tony into the kitchen.

Bruce and Tony were already deep in conversation about some experiment they were working on, but Bucky didn’t really care about that. Instead, all he could do was stare at Clint.

It wasn’t like it had been months since he’d seen the man, but in the moment, it felt like it had been forever. The whole world faded away, and all he could do was stare at Clint and wonder if he felt the same way. “Hi,” he said, trying to play it cool.

“Hi,” Clint said. “Are you - haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Clint sounded stilted and uncomfortable, and Bucky’s stomach dropped. Maybe it was too late, maybe Steve had been wrong. But Bucky was stubborn, and pushed forward. He was going to try until Clint told him to stop. “Yeah. It’s been - not great. Can we talk?” He winced - he’d sounded desperate to his own ears.

But Clint smiled, just a little, so Bucky was going to count it a win. “Yeah, we can. But I think maybe we shouldn’t go back to my apartment right now.”

Since all Bucky could think about was what he’d do to Clint if he got him into a private space, he couldn’t help but agree. At the same time, he became aware of the fact that they were being watched by Tony and Bruce curiously, and he didn’t exactly want to put on a show, either.

Clint solved the problem, though. “Maybe we can go into the media room? That’s got a door.”

“Great,” Bucky said, stepping back and letting Clint lead the way to the room off to the side. He couldn’t help eyeing Clint’s ass - he was only human, it was a great ass - but at the same time, his stomach was twisting with nerves.

They went into the room, and closed the door. Clint sat down in one of the chairs instead of the sofa, and Bucky saw it clearly as an attempt to keep some distance, which he could respect. “Well,” Clint said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Were you forced into this too?”

Bucky chuckled a little. “Less forced, more apologized at until I agreed to it to make it stop.” That made Clint smile as well, and Bucky chalked up another in the win column. “But I’ve wanted to apologize to you again, so it wasn’t that hard for Steve to get me to agree to it.”

Clint shrugged. “We never made any agreements. I can’t be mad at you for not returning my feelings if I’ve never told you what they are.”

“Who said that? That I don’t return them, that is?” Bucky asked. “Don’t you remember how upset I was? If I didn’t feel anything, I wouldn’t have been mad about the situation.”

Shrugging, Clint stared at his hands, folded in his lap. “I guess I just took what you said to Steve at face value. Besides, it’s not like you couldn’t find someone else to play with. I’ve seen the looks you get at the club.”

Bucky stood up, crossed to where Clint was sitting, and sank to his knees in front of him, forcing Clint to meet his eyes. “Clint, I don’t want someone else to play with. I like being with you. I even like being with you when we’re not doing anything but hanging out with the team.” Reaching out, he rested his hands on Clint’s. “I mean it, Clint. You’re the first person I’ve felt like this about in a very long time. I don’t know that I can put it in specific words, but I just _like_ you.”

Clint flipped his hands over, gripping Bucky’s hands lightly. Bucky noticed that he didn’t even wince at the feel of Bucky’s metal hand, and he wondered when that had become normal to expect from Clint. “I like you too,” he said. Clint hesitated, then said, “Natasha says that I should talk to you about expectations and wants and stuff, but I don’t know that I’m ready to do that yet.”

“How about we just promise to be honest? I think that’s a fair expectation and want right now. I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite ready to swear to true love just yet.”

Clint’s smile grew, becoming something more open and familiar. “I think that I can promise that,” he said. Then his face grew uncomfortable again. “She also ordered me to talk to you about the kink stuff.”

“Ugh,” Bucky said. “Is that really necessary? I think we’re doing okay there.”

“Right?” Clint said, his voice more animated than it had been through this whole conversation. “I don’t think it is, but she pointed out that kink without negotiation isn’t really safe for _you_ because if something goes wrong, you know there are people who would use it as an excuse to lock you up.”

Bucky sighed. “I guess she might have a point. I mean, if there’s something you don’t like, it’s not like I’m going to force the issue, but it would be helpful to know what those things are before I run into them.”

“Yeah.” Clint bit his lip and then blurted out, “And I think I might have more experience with some stuff than you, so there might be things you don’t know about?”

Chuckling, Bucky nodded. “I hate to admit it, but that’s probably true. I mean, I’ve figured out impact, and sex is a no-brainer, and wax was more fun that I thought it would be, but there’s such a wide range of things out there. Big difference from when I used to go to gay bars in the thirties.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual negotiation happening, references to "no-go" kinks

Clint took that as a jumping off point. “That’s one of the things I’ve always been curious about. I know you were getting up to all sorts of things before the war, but you’ve never said _what_. I didn’t think BDSM clubs were exactly a thing back then.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed. “If they were, I never heard of them,” he said. “Not that I would have necessarily refused to go, but you know, being gay was being perverted enough according to most of the people I knew. The kinds of things we get up to now? That would have gotten us locked up in the loony bin.”

Nodding, Clint said, “Hell, according to some people _now_ we should be in the bughouse. So, if you weren’t going to beat people who were begging for it, what _were_ you doing?”

“Honestly?” Bucky asked. Clint nodded, and Bucky looked away and said softly, “I was the one doing the begging. I liked rough sex then, too, just from the other side.”

“I forgot that you said you used to do that.” Clint said. “I never think of you as a bottom. You sure seem to enjoy being in charge.”

“Oh, I do,” Bucky said. “But to let go that much, to give up that much control? It’s terrifying. By topping I can make sure no one touches me or surprises me.”

“Well, just so you know,” Clint said, trying not to look like a Tex Avery cartoon at the possibility of getting to tap Bucky’s ass. “I’d definitely hit that if you were interested.”

“Not right now,” Bucky said. “But who knows? Maybe eventually.”

“No pressure,” Clint said. “I’m perfectly happy bottoming most of the time anyway. I mean, technically I’m a switch, but Phil was the toppiest top to ever top, so it’s not exactly a hardship.”

“Good to know. Is there anything else we need to talk about?” Bucky asked, his eyes begging for this conversation to be over, and Clint wished he could grant it, but if he didn’t tell Bucky one last thing, Natasha would _know_ , and then he’d have to deal with her uncaffeinated again.

“One more thing,” Clint said. “So, uh, I should have told you this the first time we played. I don’t use the stoplight system for safewords.”

Bucky didn’t look mad, thankfully, just curious. “Oh? If you don’t, then what do you use?”

“Budapest for all stop. Fury is my equivalent of yellow.” Clint flinched, waiting for the laugh.

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I can guarantee that if you say Fury, I’m going to want to know what’s going through your head to bring that bastard to mind. But do I want to know about why Budapest?”

“There was a mission - the good part was it was where Phil and I hooked up for the first time. The bad thing was literally _everything_ else about that mission. It was a complete and utter shitshow of a mission that Natasha and I were lucky to get out of alive and with all of our parts attached. So when I say ‘Budapest’, it is literally a worst case scenario situation.”

Bucky nodded. “So Fury means to slow down and see what’s going on. Budapest means something has gone wrong, stop immediately. Got it. Anything else?”

Clint was pleased that had gone that smoothly. “We should talk about what we’re interested in. You know, kinks that we’ve tried that we like, that we don’t like, that we want to try…”

“Uh,” Bucky said. “Other than the stuff that I’ve done with you, I’ve mostly done mostly impact with floggers and paddles and such. I’m happy to try anything at all, though.”

“Right. You sure about that?” Clint asked. “Cause there are kinks out there that are too weird for me. There’s got to be things that you aren’t interested in.”

“We’re really going to talk about this?” Bucky said, sitting back on his heels. “If we are, maybe we could go sit on the couch? I haven’t gotten to touch you in far too many days.”

Clint realized that Bucky had been kneeling for a while when he said that, and said, “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Bucky. Yeah, we can move to the couch. But I don’t want to have sex right now, okay? Anyone might walk in on us.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I would not let that happen,” JARVIS said, making both of them jump.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Clint said after a second. “But if you lock someone out, they’re going to know we’re having sex in here, and I don’t want to deal with that either.”

“Understood. Though, you should know, Agent Barton, that Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers are sitting in the living room, and I suspect that they plan to warn off anyone who gets too close to the door, even before I can.”

Bucky closed his eyes and looked pained. “Do I want to know why you suspect that, JARVIS?” he asked.

“Because they have already told sir to not come in three times,” JARVIS said, sounding long-suffering.

“Of course it was Tony,” Clint said. “Man hasn’t ever met anything private that he didn’t immediately want to stick his nose into. Thanks for letting us know, JARVIS. You’re a bro.”

Bucky rolled from his knees to his feet and held out a hand to Clint, pulling him to his feet as well. “So clearly Tony already suspects,” Bucky said. “Which means he’s told the whole team. At this point we might as well have sex.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Nice try. You have a point, but I’m still not having sex right now, because if we don’t finish this conversation, Nat’s going to know and then she’s going to murder me in my sleep.”

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, pulling Clint towards the big plush sofa. He sat down in the corner furthest from the door, and pulled Clint down next to him, so that Clint’s back was to Bucky’s chest. “So talk. What kinks are so bad that you don’t like them?”

“Electricity,” Clint said without hesitating. “I know that that the toys they sell for electricity play are safe. I’m still not letting one near me. I’ve been hooked up to too many car batteries over the years to even think about it.” Just the thought of the last time he’d been captured and held for three days before Phil and Natasha had broken him out was enough to make him shiver.

“Can’t say I blame you there. The idea of play-acting a torture scene is like a bucket of cold water - I’ve done it in real life, I don’t need to bring it into fun time.” Bucky said. “Okay, so I mean, this isn’t something we can exactly do because we’re missing the bits, but I saw someone at the club doing what looked like a gynecological exam on her girlfriend? She even had a white coat and a stethoscope. Gave me the creeps.”

Clint thought about that for a second. “I bet that would apply to any sort of medical play for you,” he said. “I mean, if I were you, I wouldn’t exactly associate doctors and stuff like that with _good_ things.”

“Uh, yuck,” Bucky said. “Yeah, let’s say no to that.”

“There is one thing that I like that’s related, though you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Clint said. 

“Oh?” Bucky said, his voice curious.

“Yeah, I like needle play. But for that you don’t need to dress up like a doctor - you just need the right equipment. It’s not about scene setting, like pretending to be examining someone. It’s all about the sensations you can cause.”

Against Clint’s back, Bucky tensed up, and then slowly relaxed. “I - I don’t know? Let me think about that.”

“It’s fine. We can always just raid my toy collection again,” Clint said. “That might spark some ideas. Or, hey, I could send you a kink checklist.”

“A kink…checklist,” Bucky said slowly. “Do I even want to know?”

Clint twisted around to look at Bucky. “You’ve never seen one? It lists a bunch of different kinks - the one I have has about two hundred on it - and you mark the ones you like, the ones you won’t do under any circumstances, and the others as various degrees of curiosity. If you’re relatively new to the scene, or negotiating with a new partner, it can be really useful.”

“I think we’re doing pretty good without one,” Bucky said plaintively. “That just seems so cold.”

“Not really,” Clint said. “It just makes you think. I’m not going to say you _have_ to fill one out, but it might be useful.” Bucky still looked unconvinced, so Clint made a mental note to just send him one in the next day or so and let it drop. 

“Gentlemen?” JARVIS interrupted again. “I have been asked to inform you that there is a communal dinner that will be starting in about five minutes if you would like to join in. Also, Agent Romanoff says to tell Agent Barton, that, quote, I’ll know if you’ve talked yet, unquote.”

“That woman is really something,” Bucky said, sounding as if he wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or turned on.

“She really is,” Clint agreed. “I don’t know about you, but I have talked more about this than I wanted to in the first place, and I’m hungry. Want to go eat?”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “But I want something else, first.”

“What’s that?” Clint asked. 

“A kiss. I’m dying to taste you,” Bucky said, his voice plaintive.

Clint smiled. “I’ll tell you what. You can have that kiss, but you have to promise to think about coming back to my apartment after dinner. Not for sex - I mean, we might, but what I want is for you to just sleep with me. I’ll understand if you need to go during the night, but you have to promise you’ll wake me up first.”

“I don’t even have to think about that,” Bucky said. “Sure, I’ll come back to your apartment. Now, my kiss?”

Clint flipped over on his front, propping himself up with his hands on the seat cushion, and leaned in so that his lips met Bucky’s. Just like that, it was like there had never been a fight, that they’d never been apart. There was just heat and need and (Clint could admit it to himself now) genuine affection. 

When they pulled away from each other, both of them gave soft groans. “Do we really need to go to dinner?” Bucky asked.

Clint sympathized, he really did, but if Natasha didn’t see that they were getting along again, she’d barge in early in the morning again, and he didn’t want to deal with that. “Yeah, we do,” he said. “But we don’t have to watch movies after.”

“Deal,” Bucky said.

The two of them scrambled to their feet. When Clint opened the door, he found everyone but Bruce in the living room, all looking expectantly at them.

Without a word, Natasha held out a hand, and Tony cursed and placed a bill in it. “You two couldn’t have fooled around at least a little bit?” he demanded plaintively.

“Not with you out here,” Clint said. “Natasha knows that, and if you haven’t figured out that betting against her is a bad idea, I can’t help you.”

While Tony was still sputtering in indignation, Bruce came in and announced dinner, which broke up the argument before it even had a chance to start.

When they went into the dining room, they discovered that the only two seats with no drinks were right next to each other, and Clint couldn’t help but flash Bucky a grin. Clearly the team was going to encourage this, which made things easier if they didn’t have to hide. Sitting down, they settled in to see what Bruce had made for dinner.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More freakin' emotions, blindfolds, spanking, anal sex, D/s

It had been a good night. They actually hadn't ended up having sex, but that was fine. Instead, by the time they'd managed to escape the team and make it back to Clint's apartment, both of them were completely exhausted. Bucky suspected that it was at least partially an emotional hangover from the last few days and from all the talking during the day, but they had climbed into bed together, started to kiss, and the next thing Bucky knew, he was waking up as light streamed into Clint's bedroom.

He blinked sleepily, scratching the join between the shoulder plating and his chest, and wondered when he'd last slept through the night without a nightmare. He couldn't even begin to remember. 

Clint was still sleeping, and Bucky hated to wake him, but now that he was awake, he wasn't going to be able to stay still. He needed to get out and move, even if it was just running on a treadmill. But he'd promised not to leave without saying anything to Clint, so he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Clint's forehead. "Hey, sleepyhead," he said softly. "You in there?"

"Mmm," Clint hummed, his hand coming up and clumsily petting Bucky on the face. "Too early. Go back to sleep."

"Can't," Bucky said. "But I promised to wake you up before I left." 

At that, Clint opened his eyes, which were still soft with sleep. "Need to get out?" he asked, no accusation, just curiosity.

"Just need to move some," Bucky said. "Nothing to do with you. I'll see you later, okay? Go back to sleep."

"Okay, darlin'," Clint said, his eyes already sliding shut.

Bucky's chest felt warm at the endearment. He was sure that if Clint had been completely awake, he would never had said it, but in some ways, that made it even more honest. He slipped out of the bed and pulled on yesterday's clothes before letting himself out of Clint's apartment and heading back to his own.

There was no sign of Steve, but Sam was sitting at the kitchen bar. "Hey, Sam," he said, intent on getting to his room to get into his gym clothes but not wanting to be rude.

"Heya, Bucky," Sam said, his smile bright and wide. "So, you guys all good now? No more fights?"

"You mean me and Clint? Or me and Steve?" Bucky shook his head. "The first - eh, we'll see. The second, not a chance in hell. Me and Steve always argue. It's how we communicate best. But hopefully there'll be no more about _this_."

"I'll take it," Sam said, holding up his coffee mug. "You know if you need a referee... just leave me out of it, right?"

Bucky laughed a little. "Yeah. I know. You know, for a counselor, you hate emotions even more than I do."

"I don't hate emotions in the people I treat," Sam corrected. "In them, they're a good thing that I encourage. But I'm not getting paid, oh, _anything_ to play relationship counselor between you and Steve. So do me a favor and talk to each other instead of past each other, and it'll be better."

"From your lips to God's ears," Bucky said. "I don't want to deal with this crap anymore, either, you know."

"I know," Sam said, turning his attention back to his tablet. He burst out with "Son of a bitch," when he looked at the screen.

"Words with Friends with Natasha?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah. Woman is _cutthroat_ ," Sam said, his fingers already moving over the screen, his conversation with Bucky clearly dismissed. That was just fine with Bucky, who went to his room and put on his gym clothes before heading down to the gym three levels down.

Steve was there, but he was running full out on a treadmill, and didn't do much more than lift a hand in greeting. Bucky thought about taking the one at the opposite end, but he decided that he was in too good a mood to re-start a fight that appeared to finally be over, so he selected the one right next to Steve, programmed his preferred workout, and started to run.

He and Steve ran steadily for about two hours, just the occasional word between them, and their customary comfort back. It made Bucky finally relax fully, and when Steve's programmed routine came to a stop, he didn't do much more than wave goodbye and redouble his own effort, upping the speed a little.

He heard his phone ding as a couple of emails came in, but he ignored them. If it was urgent, whoever was looking for him would use JARVIS, who would interrupt Bucky over the speakers. Finally, though, he was pleasantly tired, and he pressed the button to shift the speed to something that would let him cool down. 

Now that he wasn't running full out, he looked at the screen of his phone, where it rested on the controls of the treadmill. An email from Steve to the whole team - probably memes. An email from Fury, requesting a meeting.

An email from Clint. It had an attachment, simply labeled "checklist" and the body of the email said _Just give it a look, okay? You don't have to fill it out if you don't want to._. Based on that, Bucky was pretty sure that he knew what the checklist was for. He was also completely certain that he didn't want to look at it in a semi-public space. 

Mopping his face with a towel, he turned off the treadmill, grabbed his stuff, and headed back to the apartment. This time, it was completely empty, so he set the phone on his bed, and went to shower. He still wasn't sure that he even wanted to look at a "kink checklist" but he was definitely a sweaty mess, so that came first.

Hot water was a wonderful thing, and _unlimited_ hot water was a luxury that he would have never thought he'd have, so it was hard to keep his shower short. 

After he was clean and dressed, he went to his own tablet, opened the email from Clint, and stared at the attachment for a long moment. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he opened it. 

At the top, there were six ratings, ranging from "Will not do" to "Wild turn on". Then the kinks started, and Jesus, there were a lot of them. There were eleven fucking pages with at least twenty on each page. It started with abrasion and age play - what the hell was age play? And when he flipped to the last page, it ended on wrestling.

He didn't print it out or anything, but he did scroll through it. Some of it sounded hot and some of it sounded like it would be hot in concept but awkward or impossible in reality. Some of it he wouldn't even consider, and there was an awful lot that he had no idea what it even was.

"JARVIS, where is Clint?" he asked the air.

"Agent Barton is in his apartment and has left instructions for me to tell you to come over whenever you please."

"Oh, really," Bucky said. Setting aside his tablet, he stood up and stretch, feeling the burn of muscles that had gotten a good work out, but not the wearing exhaustion of the last few days. "Could you let him know I'm on my way down?"

There was a brief hesitation, and then JARVIS said, "Message delivered, Sergeant. He says he'll see you in a minute."

Too impatient to wait for the elevator, Bucky jogged down the two flights of stairs to the floor where Clint's apartment was. He knocked on the door lightly, and heard Clint call out, "If that's Bucky, come in. If it's not, go away or I'll shoot you."

"Glad to know I'm not on the "shoot on sight," list," Bucky said as he came through the door. He stopped a few feet inside the door, seeing that Clint was sitting on the sofa, a beer on the table along with a small stack of paper. "Little early for beer, isn't it?"

"Eh, it's five o'clock somewhere," Clint said. "I take it you got my email?"

"Yeah. You weren't kidding about people's creativity," Bucky said. He came all the way into the apartment. Going over to the coffee table, he sat down next to the beer - which still had the cap on it, he noticed. "I thought we were good?"

"We are," Clint said. "Just - had to find the list to send you. And when I was looking I found that." He pointed at the stack of paper, and Bucky looked at Clint for a moment before picking it up.

Unsurprisingly, it was the same list that he had on his phone, but this one was filled out. More than that, the edges of the paper were worn and soft from a lot of handling, and there were notes in various places. Without needing to ask, he realized that this must have been the one Clint had filled out for Phil.

"Okay, _we're_ good. How about just you?" Bucky asked. 

"I'm all right, Bucky. Just a lot of memories in those papers," Clint said. "They're yours now, if you want, I guess."

That surprised Bucky a little, and he wasn't sure why. "You really want me to have this?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clint said. "This is part of that whole 'negotiation' thing we should have done weeks ago, honestly." He laughed a little, but the sound was wet, like there were tears hiding inside it.

Bucky stared helplessly, a little uncertain of what to do, Then Clint cleared his throat noisily and said, much more steadily, "I'm really okay, Bucky. It just brought back memories. Seriously, take a look at it, see if you see anything that interests you."

Obediently, Bucky glanced down at the first page. He wasn't surprised that anal toys and sex were marked as wild turn ons, but he was surprised to see age play marked as something that Clint like occasionally. He started to ask, and then decided that he'd wait until the moment wasn't quite so charged. 

The next wild turn on was on the next page - blindfolds. In the space for notes, Clint had at some point noted that lack of vision was terrifying for him, and that was part of the turn on. "You like blindfolds?" he asked, wanting to make sure that nothing had changed. This was something that shouldn't be as emotionally vulnerable as something so intimately tied with Clint's relationship with Phil, and Bucky was a little curious to see what would happen. 

Clint nodded eagerly. "Love 'em. You know how important vision is to a sniper - take that away and it's like all the excitement of a really _good_ horror movie, combined with hot sex. How can that be bad?"

Bucky chuckled a little, and set down the list. "So, if I were to do that, what would you do?"

He was a little taken aback when Clint slid to his knees between Bucky's thighs. "Anything you like, Sergeant."

"Anything, huh?" Bucky said, using a much more commanding tone of voice. "Take your clothes off, Clint," he said.

Without a word of argument, Clint rose to his feet, stripped down to nothing, folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the sofa before sinking back to his knees. Bucky threaded the fingers of his metal hand through the short hair at the back of Clint's head and pulled him in for a kiss, before leaning over and grabbing the t-shirt from the stack. A bit of twisting and folding, and he had something that would serve as a functional blindfold. 

As he wrapped it around Clint's head and tied it in place, Clint's breathing started to speed up. A glance down showed that his cock was showing its interest in what was going on as well, and Bucky reached down and gave it a quick stroke. Clint gasped, his hips jerking for a moment before he froze again. Bucky clucked his tongue. "You know better than that," he said.

"Y - yes, Sergeant," Clint said, and fuck, that sounded so good coming from his mouth. 

"I think it's been too long since you've had a good spanking," Bucky said, and Clint _whimpered_. It was _beautiful_.

Bucky gently urged Clint backwards, and then stood up. It only took him a few moments to strip out of his own clothes, and then he settled on the couch. The entire time, Clint had his head tilted, like was trying to figure out exactly what Bucky was doing just from the sound. 

Once Bucky was settled, he reached down and grabbed Clint by the arm, and pulled him to his feet. He didn't wait for Clint to get his balance, though. Instead, he kept pulling, forcing Clint to bend over his lap, until his hands were on the floor on one side and his feet on the other. As soon as Clint figured out what he was doing, he cooperated, and he was settled relatively quickly.

Then Bucky started to spank him. While he didn't go full force from the first slap, he certainly didn't take it easy on him, his hand falling over and over again, turning Clint's ass bright red.

He kept going until Clint was practically humping his thigh. Then he slid his hand between Clint's thighs, sliding it up high enough that his thumb pressed against Clint's hole. Clint was practically hyperventilating, but there was nothing bad in the sound at all. "You want this, Clint?" he asked.

"Anything, Sergeant," Clint answered breathlessly. "Anything."

Without moving his right hand, Bucky leaned to the left and pulled open the side table, grabbing a condom and the tube of lube from the drawer. He couldn't open the screw top one handed, though, so he put it in Clint's hand. "Get that open for me," he demanded.

Clint's hands were shaking, but within seconds, Bucky was holding the open tube. Thank Christ, the arm made him completely ambidextrous, so he managed to squirt lube right where his thumb was resting, and he pushed it inside to the sound of Clint's groan.

He fucked Clint with his thumb just long enough to get him good and slick. When he pulled his thumb out, Clint whimpered and lifted his hips, so of course Bucky had to slap it again. 

Once Clint was back in position, Bucky said, "You're going to ride my cock, Clint." It was hard to keep his voice even, to not give away that he was just as turned on as Clint, but he managed to keep it stern and steady.

"Oh, god," Clint cried, but he stayed still, so Bucky rewarded him with a quick in and out of his thumb. Then he grasped Clint by the upper arm and guided him up to his feet. This time he held on until Clint was steady, before opening the condom, rolling it down his cock and then coating his cock with the lube. He was so hard it fucking hurt, and Clint's cock looked purple, he was so turned on. 

As soon as he was good and slick, he turned Clint so he was facing away from Bucky, and Bucky guided him back and down so that he was hovering over Bucky's cock, straddling Bucky's lap, only the strength in his legs holding him in the half crouch. As soon as he was sure that he was lined up, he said, "Now, Clint, slide down me _now_."

As little as Clint had been stretched, there was a moment when Bucky wasn't sure that he was going to get in, and then the head of his cock popped through the tight ring of muscle. He gasped at the sudden sensation surrounding his cock.

Clint didn't stop, though, sliding slowly but steadily down, swallowing Bucky's cock into dark heat. When he finally was fully seated on Bucky's lap, Bucky's cock in him as deep as it could go, Clint groaned. "God, so deep, so good," he said, his voice thick.

"That's a good boy," Bucky said. "But now you need to ride. Come on, Clint, move your fine ass."

Clint still didn't move, so Bucky slapped his ass. That got a whimper, but still no movement, so Bucky reached forward, grabbed both of Clint's wrists and pulled them together behind Clint's back. By shifting his grip, he was able to urge Clint to rise up a few inches and then slide back down.

And once he'd gotten Clint moving, it was like Clint couldn't stop. He was whining and groaning with every movement, his tight ass clenching hard around Bucky's cock. Bucky gathered his wrists together in his left hand, and reached around with his right to stroke over Clint's cock. "Fuck!" Clint cried. "Don't - don't. I'll come if you do that."

"What if I want you to come, boy?" Bucky growled. "Come on, come for me. Let me feel it."

Clint cried out, his hips moving even faster, thrusting up into Bucky's fist and then pushing down to take him deeper. Bucky's own orgasm was edging up on him, and if Clint didn't come soon, Bucky was going to come first. And that was just not acceptable. "Come on, Clint," he said. "If you don't come before I do, I'm not going to let you come at all."

Whimpering, Clint slammed down into Bucky's lap, and came so hard his entire body was shaking in Bucky's arms. Bucky instantly let go of Clint's wrists, and wrapped his arms around Clint's body, thrusting up one, two, three more times before he came hard enough that it felt like the world had been tilted on its axis. 

Once he knew which way was up again, he urged Clint to lean back against him, his cock still semi-hard and sheathed inside Clint's warm body. Clint was shaking from aftershocks, and Bucky rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to help ground him in the here and now. "Ready for me to take the blindfold off?" he asked.

"Not just yet," Clint said, his voice raspy. 

"Okay. Let me know if you get uncomfortable. And if we stay like this too long, you might end up going for another ride, whether you're ready for it or not."

"Mmmm," Clint shifted a little. "I'd kind of like that. For you to just fuck me as many times as you wanted, till you couldn't come anymore."

The thought was enough to get Bucky harder, but he'd definitely need to change condoms if he was going to fuck Clint again, and he wasn't sure that Clint really knew what he was saying. So instead, he urged Clint to slide up, one of Bucky's hands wrapped around the base of his cock to hold the condom in place. 

As soon as he was no longer inside Clint, he rearranged him so that Clint was at a more comfortable angle in his lap and just relaxed. They had all afternoon. And maybe when Clint was ready to come down, he'd explain some of the things on the list.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of (but no actual) age play, discussion about condom use, nightmares, Bucky bottoming

After a long afternoon of alternating getting pounded on the sofa and watching television, Clint jumped when JARVIS spoke up. "Are you gentlemen joining the team for dinner?"

He exchanged a glance with Bucky. On the one hand, they weren't hiding any more. On the other hand, he didn't really want to deal with the loud raucousness of the whole team or the possible teasing, not after the nice, peaceful afternoon. Bucky shook his head, so Clint said, "No, JARVIS. I think we're going to order something in."

"Actually," Bucky said. "I thought I might take you out to dinner."

Clint blinked at that. Bucky, out of the whole team, was always the most reluctant to go out to places like restaurants, so the suggestion came out of left field. But, hey, more time with Bucky, out of the bedroom, or the club, was a good thing. "Sure. Indian?"

"I could do Indian," Bucky said. "I guess we need to get dressed, though."

"Boo," Clint said, but he was already standing up and stretching. "I need a quick shower. You need one?"

"I'll just clean up when you're done. I've hardly worn today's clothes," Bucky said with a lecherous grin, "so I can just put them back on."

"Fair enough." Clint wandered off to the bathroom, leaving Bucky sitting on the couch. After a hurried shower, he put on decent jeans and one of his purple t-shirts, and headed back out to the living room. 

Bucky was holding Clint's checklist in his hands, looking it over. As it was the first interest he'd shown since he'd first gotten there, Clint hated to interrupt, but now that food was on offer, he was starving. "Hey - your turn," he said.

Setting down the papers, Bucky smiled at Clint and stood up. As he passed by Clint on the way to the bathroom, Clint grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in for a kiss, and then let him go.

True to Bucky's word, it was only a few minutes, and then they were dressed and on their way out of the door. The nearest Indian place was familiar with Clint - with all of the Avengers, really - but they were casual about it, so that's where Clint suggested they go.

The owner was all smiles when she recognized him, taking Clint and Bucky to the back of the restaurant and getting them settled in a booth. By the time her daughter came to take their order, they were ready, and it felt like they asked for half the menu.

And then they sat and waited for the food. Clint felt like it might be awkward - they hadn't done a lot that hadn't been related to sex in some way - but it wasn't. It was comfortable, similar to how he felt when he was out with Natasha. He had someone to watch his back, someone who he didn't need to struggle to come up with something to talk about. They could just _be_.

"Have you ever been to India?" Bucky asked.

Clint grinned. "Not many places I haven't been," he said. "But I don't usually get to play tourist. Maybe one of these days I'll get to go somewhere and just explore."

Bucky looked a little wistful. "Yeah. I mean, I know _technically_ I've been all over the world, but I don't think it really counts, you know?"

"Definitely not," Clint said. "Maybe we should see if Steve can spare the two of us for a few days - go anywhere you want."

"That's a nice thought," Bucky said. "But you know SHIELD won't let me out of sight for that long."

Before Clint could answer, the food started to arrive, and just kept coming. Pretty soon the table was full of fragrant dishes, and rather than tangle with the complicated mess that was Bucky's relationship with SHIELD, the two of them just dug in, eating hungrily.

By the time they both slowed to a stop, they'd made a sizable dent, but there was still a fair amount of food left over. Riya brought over boxes and started efficiently packing up the food, while Bucky and Clint engaged in a staring contest over who was going to get to pay the check - one that Clint lost when he blinked and Bucky grabbed it away.

When they left the restaurant, the sun had gone down, and Clint shivered a little in the night air. It was definitely getting cooler as it turned into fall. Bucky's arm came up around his shoulder hesitantly, but Clint quickly leaned in, taking advantage of Bucky's body heat. "Guess I should have worn a jacket," he said.

"Probably," Bucky said. "But I run hot, so it's okay."

They went back to Clint's apartment, and Clint halfway expected Bucky to head back to his own apartment. This was the longest amount of time they'd ever spent together. But instead, Bucky looked at him and asked, "Can I stay tonight?" He sounded almost shy, as if he expected that Clint might actually say no.

"Of course," Clint said. "But god knows I don't want to lie down yet - I'm too full to move."

Bucky chuckled. "Yeah. That place was really good, but we ordered way too much food."

"Eh, it'll make good leftovers," Clint said, stashing them in the refrigerator. Heading back to the couch, he sprawled out, groaning as his stomach complained of too much food. 

Sitting down next to Clint, Bucky picked up the list again and started to flip through the pages. "You see anything you like?" Clint asked. 

"I see things that I have no idea what they mean," Bucky answered with a laugh. "Like, right here, what the hell is age play?"

Instantly, Clint's face felt like it was on fire. "Oh, um, so you know that my family life when I was a kid wasn't exactly happy, right?"

"Well, I've never been told that outright," Bucky said. "But it doesn't surprise me either."

Clint tried to figure out how to answer without it sounding weirder than it actually was. "So, Phil would sometimes encourage me to, well, to act like a little kid. Color, play with action figures, watch cartoons. All the stuff I never got to do when I was an _actual_ kid. We never brought sex into it, because that wasn't what it was about for me, but some people do. You don't have to do it if you find it too strange."

Bucky shrugged. "It's not as weird as some of the other things on this list, not by a long shot. You want to sit around and color, we can do that. I might even join you."

Clint couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. "Really? I mean, you don't have to, but really?"

"Sure," Bucky said. "Could be fun for a day when we're tired or it's one of those rainy, blah days where nothing much is happening."

There was a pause, and then Bucky said, "You know, since we're not actually having sex, we should talk about condoms."

A little surprised, Clint said, "Sure. What about 'em?"

"You know I can't catch anything, right?" Bucky said, the tips of his ears pink. "Which also means I can't give you anything. And neither of us are likely to get pregnant, so do we really need them?"

Clint grinned widely. "I dunno. You've got that supersperm thing going on - what if it finds a way to knock me up?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You still don't have any of the bits for that to happen."

He couldn't help but laugh. "What kind of dumbass do you think I am? I know that. I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm used to using them, and if we're somewhere where clean up may be an issue, like the club, I'd prefer that we still do. But if we're here, and you don't want to? Sure, we can ditch 'em."

Bucky leaned in and pressed a kiss to Clint's mouth, and while parts of Clint would have like to be interested, he was still too full to consider it, so he kissed back but didn't do anything else to encourage more. After a moment, he broke away, resting his forehead against Bucky's. "Is there anything else on the list you want to talk about?"

Shaking his head, Bucky said "Nah," and set down the list on the coffee table. Picking up the remote and holding it out to Clint, he asked, "Want to see if there's a game on?"

"Sure." He grabbed the remote and flipped to ESPN, finding that there was a college football game on. Neither team was from Iowa, so beyond that he didn't really care. Leaving the channel, he leaned in, not quite touching Bucky but trying to make it clear that contact would be welcome.

He blinked awake some unknown time later, to see that ESPN sportscenter was on and that Bucky was asleep next to him on the sofa. "Hey, Bucky," he said softly. "We fell asleep. We should probably move to the bed."

Bucky twisted his head as if he was trying to brush away a noise he didn't want to hear, so Clint tried again, a little louder. "Hey, Buck. Let's go to bed, huh?"

With a yawn and a stretch, Bucky blinked awake and looked around blearily before he focused on Clint. "Oh, guess that food knocked me out," he said, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Me, too," Clint said. "But if you still want to stay the night, we should move to the bed. I'm too old to crash on the sofa all night if I want to be able to move the next day."

"Yeah." The two of them levered themselves off the sofa and headed to the bedroom. They managed to take turns in the bathroom without many words. In fact, Clint wasn't sure that Bucky was really awake at all. Clint wasn't after all.

They fell into the bed, pulling up the covers, and after exchanging a brief, gentle kiss, turned over to go back to sleep.

The next time Clint woke up, it was to the terrible sounds coming from Bucky. He was moaning and whimpering, but it in a way that indicated horrific pain. There was nothing else that Clint could think of that would sound like that. "Bucky," he whispered, not wanting to touch him in case he lashed out the way that Clint himself sometimes did. "Bucky, you're safe. It's okay."

The sounds continued.

Clint inched a little closer, and tried again, his voice louder. "Bucky, wake up. It's okay. You're safe. No one is here but me."

Suddenly the sounds cut off completely, as did the sound of Bucky breathing. "Hey, Bucky, you're scaring me. You in there?"

"Clint?" Bucky's voice was a soft exhale.

"Yeah, Bucky. It's me. I'm going to touch you now, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky said, his voice still soft.

Slowly, cautiously, making sure that he was aware of everything Bucky was doing, Clint moved in close, wrapping around his back and pulling him snug against Clint's chest. Bucky was shivering, but his breathing was growing more steady. "Better?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Bucky said, shifting slightly, his ass pressing back against Clint's cock. Clint sternly ordered it to stand down, now was not the time. 

"Fuck me?" Bucky asked softly.

Or maybe it was. Clint wasn't convinced that Bucky was actually awake, though, so he just held on gently and rubbed a hand over Bucky's stomach comfortingly. "You actually want that?" he asked. "Or are you dreaming?"

Bucky moved with more intent, and Clint laughed a little breathlessly. "Maybe _I'm_ dreaming," he said.

"Come on, Clint," Bucky said, his voice steadier and more awake. "You said you'd fuck me if I wanted. Well, I want."

"Still not sure this a good idea," Clint said, but his cock was definitely perking up at the thought. "But if you want it, I can do it."

"I definitely want it. Nice and hard," Bucky said. 

Clint bit his lip. "How about we compromise?" he asked. "I'll fuck you, but not hard. If you want it that way, you're going to have to tell me when I know you're all the way awake."

Bucky sighed, but at the same time he pulled up his leg, so that Clint's cock could slide along his crack. "If that's the only way I'm going to get it, I'll take it," he said. "But please?"

Pressing a kiss to the side of Bucky's neck, Clint said, "Okay, I'm not going to make you beg. But I have to let go to grab lube and a condom."

"Lube, yes. No condom," Bucky said, reminding Clint of their earlier conversation. 

"Oh, right." Letting go of Bucky long enough to twist around and grab the lube out of the nightstand, he carefully slicked up his fingers. Sliding his hand between them, he slowly pushed just one finger inside of Bucky.

"Jesus, you're tight," Clint said. "I don't want to hurt you."

Bucky definitely sounded more awake when he said, "I haven't been fucked in seventy years. Not surprised I'm tight. But I can take another."

Clint continued to fuck him with just one finger. "No, remember - slow and gentle this time. I'll give you more in a minute."

"You know, I could flip you on your back and sit on your cock," Bucky said.

"Yeah, you could, but you're not going to," Clint responded as he reached a little deeper and grazed his finger across the raised bump of Bucky's prostate.

Bucky whimpered and went pliable in Clint's arms, his ass loosening slowly. When Clint was confident that a second finger was going to bring nothing but pleasure, he added more lube and slowly slipped it in, causing Bucky to groan and rock back into Clint's touch.

By the time that Bucky felt like he was loose enough for Clint's cock, Clint felt like he was hard enough to pound nails. But the thought that this was the first time in a very long time for Bucky made him slow down and take his time as he pulled his fingers free and pushed in with his cock instead.

Groaning, Bucky tried to push back. Clint responded by locking his hand on Bucky's hip, holding him still. "Come on, Buck - I'm getting there. But there's no need to hurry, is there?"

"It's just been a long time," Bucky said, his voice choked.

"All the more reason not to rush it," Clint said. He continued his long, slow slide in, until he was pressed firmly against Bucky's ass. He paused for a long minute to make sure that Bucky was adjusted, and then set a slow rhythm, something he could maintain for a while.

In his arms, Bucky sighed and moved with him, his body loose and pliant as Clint fucked him. For all his demands for hard and fast, it sure seemed like slow and gentle was actually what he had needed. 

Clint's hand drifted down, finding Bucky's cock hard and leaking, and he started to stroke it slowly in time with his thrusts. Bucky groaned, but didn't try to rush the pace. Clint just kept moving at the same steady rate, ignoring his own rising need in favor of being careful with Bucky. He knew Bucky, knew that not many people had been gentle with him, even after he'd come in from the cold. And Bucky deserved gentle if anyone did.

"Please," Bucky groaned out, his body tightening around Clint's cock. "Please, Clint, I need it." 

"Yeah, Bucky," Clint said, finally starting to speed up a little. In response, Bucky cried out, and there was no question that there was anything but pleasure in the sound. Clint continued to move, gradually going faster, stroking his cock harder, until suddenly, Bucky froze and then cried out, his hip twitching and his ass clenching as he came over Clint's hand.

The sensation of being inside Bucky when he came was enough to push Clint over the edge as well, and he pushed in deep, coming hard with a deep groan against Bucky's neck.

For several moments it was quiet as they each shivered through the aftershocks, and then slowly, Clint pulled out. Bucky sighed as Clint slid all the way out, and Clint pressed a kiss to the side of his face. "Good?" he asked.

"You fishing for compliments?" Bucky asked, but his voice was soft and sleepy.

"Nah, just checking in," Clint said. "Think you can get back to sleep?"

"Yeah," Bucky said. Clint rolled him over onto his stomach, and then reached for the wipes he kept next to the bed to clean them each up. Tossing the dirty wipes into the trash, he pulled Bucky back into his arms, and held him until he was a warm, limp weight in his arms, sound asleep. Only then did Clint let himself drift off as well.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cock ring, butt plug, service submission, mild humiliation, public sex, restraints, safeword use, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms

At Clint's urging, Bucky had gone over Clint's list. He still wasn't sure about filling it out for himself, but Clint's had definitely given him some ideas on ways to make time with Clint even better.

High on Clint's list were mild humiliation, offering service, and public sex, so Bucky decided that a trip back to the club was in order. He texted Clint and said, _We're going out tonight. Wear clothes that are easy to get out of. Pick you up at seven._

All he got in response was a heart-eyes emoji, but he took that as agreement.

At seven on the dot, he knocked on Clint's door, which opened so fast that Clint must have been waiting right on the other side. "Hey," Clint said. He was dressed in jeans that were tight enough to show off his assets, but not so tight that he'd have to struggle to get out of them. He also had on one of his ubiquitous sleeveless t-shirts, and a leather jacket.

Bucky made a point of giving Clint a once-over and then said, "Very nice." The tips of Clint's ears turned pink, and Bucky grinned a little. "You know, you blush real easy considering some of the things on your list."

Clint's eyes got large at that. "So, um, so we're doing something off my list tonight?" he asked, his voice a little squeaky. 

"Yes." Bucky leaned forward, running his fingers through Clint's hair. He couldn't help but notice that Clint had let it grow out a bit from his normal crew cut, and wanted to encourage that by playing with it at every possible opportunity. "You're going to be a very good boy who's going to take very good care of me tonight. Get my beer, hold out my chair, wait for my every order. If you do it well, I'm going to fuck the hell out of you."

The sound that Clint made was indescribable, and he reached down to adjust himself in his jeans. "You mean, like marking me as yours?" Clint asked.

Bucky hadn't realized that that was what the kink was about for Clint, but hearing it out loud, he couldn't argue that he didn't like the thought of it. "Yeah, just that." Brushing the backs of his fingers down Clint's face, he added, "At least for tonight, okay?"

Licking his lips, Clint nodded. "Yeah, okay. For tonight."

"So, first off, I think we need to make sure that you remember that you're mine the whole night," Bucky said. He was improvising right now, but he figured that he knew enough about Clint's turn ons to make it good. "Let's go in to your apartment, and then I want you to get me a plug and a simple cock ring."

With a whimper, Clint stepped back, letting Bucky into his apartment. Bucky was barely inside before Clint was off like a shot. Bucky took a second to close the door, and then went to get the lube out of the side table. He was standing by the back of the sofa by the time Clint was back with his toy box, a leather strap clenched in one fist. "Here's the ring," Clint said, handing over the strap, "but I wasn't sure how large a plug you wanted to use."

Bucky took the bin and propped it on the back of the sofa before flipping open the lid. There were all the toys he remembered from the last time he'd seen it, but there were even more plugs in it now. He found one where the internal part was fairly large, with a very narrow neck. He could only imagine what it would feel like to ride the subway with it up his ass, but when he held it up, Clint nodded eagerly.

Setting the bin down on the cushions of the couch, he said, "Okay, drop 'em. Ring first."

"Yes, Sergeant," Clint said, clearly already starting to slide into subspace. He unbuckled his jeans and shoved them down around his knees. His cock was half hard, and Bucky hurried to get the cock ring in place before he got any harder. Then he patted the back of the sofa. "Bend over and spread 'em," he said.

With his jeans still tangled around his knees, there was a limit to how far Clint could spread his thighs, but Bucky didn't bother to try and get them any further off. Instead, he slicked up two fingers and slid them inside Clint, all the way in with no pause. Clint groaned, his hips moving under Bucky's hand. "Good?" Bucky asked.

" _So_ good," Clint panted. 

Bucky fucked him quickly with his fingers, stretching and slicking him a little, before pulling them out and starting to push the plug into place.

It was thick enough that it was difficult to get into his body, but Clint never once made a sound that could be interpreted in any way as anything other than pleasure. When he finally had the body of the plug in all the way, Clint's ass clenched up tight around the neck of the plug, and Bucky pressed on it, causing Clint to cry out. Giving Clint's ass a quick slap, he said, "Okay, up."

He could hear that Clint was panting, but there was no argument as Clint stood up and pulled up his jeans, fastening them again. His cock distorted the front of his pants, but he didn't argue as Bucky told him to wait for a moment while he went to wash his hands.

As soon as he was cleaned up, Bucky deliberately pocketed the tube of lube and a condom, Clint staring avidly. Then he took Clint by the hand and led him out to the elevator and out of the building.

It was Saturday, so the club was already busy by the time they got there. They each paid their admission, and then Bucky directed Clint inside. He settled at one of the tables near the bar, handed Clint a ten and said, "Go get me a beer. The right kind."

"Yes, Sergeant," Clint said, and hurried over to the bar. His walk was a little off, probably because of the size of the plug up his ass and the fact that he was clearly hard as a rock. Bucky enjoyed the view, and when Clint returned, his beer in Clint's hand, he pulled Clint down to his knees next to the chair, leaned back, and started to sip at it. 

One of the other tops that he recognized from his time at the club approached and asked if there was space at the table. Bucky gestured at the other chairs and said, "Feel free."

The other top - a guy named Greg - and Bucky talked lazily as Clint and Greg's submissive (who was never introduced) knelt next to each of them. Bucky wasn't sure about Greg, but he was loving the lust that was positively flowing off of the Clint. When he finished his beer, he'd barely pushed it away before Clint was leaning into his space, asking if he could fetch another one for Bucky.

Handing him another ten, he realized that Clint was having even more trouble walking this time. So when he returned, rather than pushing him back to his knees, he pulled Clint into his lap. "How are your knees, boy?" he asked.

"Good, I'm good, I'm being good, right?" Clint babbled. Bucky ran his hand over Clint's hard cock, and then back between his legs to where he could feel the flat disk of the plug through Clint's jeans. 

"Yeah, you're being very good," Bucky said. "But you're having trouble walking. Why is that?"

Clint's eyes darted to Greg, and then back to Bucky. "I'm really hard, Sergeant," he said, his voice soft but clear. "It hurts."

"Good hurt or bad hurt?" Bucky asked, even though he didn't really think there was any real question.

"Good hurt, Sergeant," Clint said, his cheeks pink, practically squirming in Bucky's lap. 

"That's okay then," Bucky said. Giving Clint a slap on the ass, he said, "Go get me some of those chips."

Clint hurried off, and Bucky returned to his conversation with Greg. They weren't talking about anything much, just the weather, but when Clint returned, Bucky took the bag of chips, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the floor without looking. He _heard_ it when Clint's knees hit the floor, and he winced a little internally. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, though, he could tell that Clint didn't care about possible bruised kneecaps. 

He didn't really want the chips - it had just been something to tell Clint to do, so he ripped open the bag and offered some to Greg. Greg's submissive leaned into his side, silent but clearly as content as Clint. When the chips were gone, Bucky held his hand out to Clint and said, "Lick it clean," and then had to hold back a groan as Clint's clever tongue sought out every bit of salt. 

"Good boy," he praised when Clint finally released his fingers. "Go see if the sling is available."

Clint squeaked again and got up to his feet, headed out to the playspace. He was only gone for about thirty seconds, and he was fidgeting in place when he said, "It's open, Sergeant."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get your ass in it," Bucky ordered.

Clint immediately hurried away, and Bucky counted to one hundred in his head silently before following. By the time he got there, Clint was naked and sprawled in the sling, his ass right at the perfect height for Bucky to fuck. Clint had his head lifted, his eyes locked on Bucky as if the world began and ended where he was.

Bucky took his time fastening the built in restraints around Clint's wrist's and just below his knees, so that no matter how much he squirmed, he was held securely. Then stood back and watched until Clint begged, "Please, Sergeant. Please touch me." Only then did Bucky move in again.

When Bucky was close enough to touch, he slapped Clint on one of his thighs and said, "Is your worthless ass ready to be fucked, boy?"

Instantly, Clint tensed up all over, and gasped out the word, "Fury."

It confused Bucky for a second, and then he remembered that that was Clint's version of yellow. Dropping any pretense of sternness, he hurried around Clint's side and leaned forward to say, "What's wrong, Clint? Talk to me."

Clint's eyes were clenched tightly shut and he said in a low voice, "Call me slut or whore all you like. Don't - don't make me feel worthless. I can't... It's not a good thing for me."

Bucky leaned further down to press his lips to Clint's forehead. "Thank you for telling me, Clint. I'm sure that was hard. You're not worthless - you're smart and beautiful and sexy and _perfect_. Do you want to get down?"

Clint shook his head, but his body was still tightly clenched up, as if expecting a blow that hadn't landed yet. Bucky ran a soothing hand down the center of Clint's body from the base of his throat to his pubic bone, several times, slow and steady. "Relax, Clint. Just relax. Nothing is going to happen when you're this tense."

Gradually, Clint's muscles started to loosen up as Bucky continued to stroke him. Bucky pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, to his closed eyes, until Clint was arching up into his touch and his cock, which had wilted, was starting to get hard again. "Clint, open your eyes for me," Bucky murmured, keeping up the gentle touch.

When Clint obeyed, Bucky gave him another brief kiss, this one on his mouth. "I can just fuck you if you want? Or we can get you dressed and just go hang out on the couch for while."

"No, I'm okay," Clint said. "It just didn't occur to me to tell you that about me, and it was a surprise. I want to keep going."

"You're sure?" Bucky asked. He'd never had a bottom safeword on him before, and while it wasn't the equivalent of red, he was still more rattled than he was willing to let Clint know. He was definitely going to follow Clint's lead here.

"What? You chicken?" Clint asked, his voice still a little shaky but also full of humor.

Or maybe not.

"Oh, really? That's how you want to play this, you slut?" Bucky was careful to keep his voice upbeat and light.

"Yeah, Sergeant. That's how I want to play it." Clint's voice was sounding more confident by the second, and his face and body were much more relaxed.

"Okay," Bucky said. "Remember, you asked for this." Moving back down, he slid back in between Clint's legs and tugged a little on the plug. He didn't pull on it hard enough to do more than rock it in place, but Clint's groan was gratifying and did a lot to convince Bucky that this was really okay.

Slowly, he began to tug and twist the plug, pulling it out to the widest point and then letting slide back in as Clint whimpered and thrashed in the sling. "God, look at what a little slut you are," he said. Pulling the lube out of his pocket, he slicked up his thumb and then tossed the tube to land on Clint's stomach. "Hold that." 

He ran his slick thumb around the rim of Clint's hole, and then slowly began to push it in next to the plug, forcing him even wider. Clint was panting like he was running a race against Steve and losing. "Ask for it, slut. Ask for what you want."

"Oh, Christ, Sergeant," Clint gasped out. "Please fuck me. Please give me your cock. _Please_."

"Oh, you ask so pretty," Bucky said. He pulled his thumb out, and reached down to free his cock. Pulling the condom out of his pocket, he held it up for Clint to see. "Condom? Or should I come in your ass and plug you back up for the ride back to the tower?"

Clint's eyes darted from Bucky's hand to his face. "You decide."

"I'm going to take my time," Bucky said. "And I'm going to fuck you again when we get home. I don't want you too sore to take me again, so condom now. No condom later."

Groaning, Clint arched his back, offering up his hole for Bucky to fuck, and Bucky wasn't going to say no to it any longer. He quickly opened the condom and rolled it down his cock. Pulling out the plug, he dropped it on the floor and started to slide his cock in its place. 

He set a slow pace, deep and hard and as slow as he could get it. Under him, Clint whimpered and squirmed and started to beg, "Please, Sergeant. Please fuck me harder, please?"

"You are the little slut, aren't you?" Bucky said, not speeding up at all. "I told you, I'm taking my time. You know my stamina, I can keep going for as long as I want. And all you can do is lie there and take it."

He let his hands roam freely, touching everywhere but Clint's cock, which was so hard in the ring that it was purple, arching up over his belly. This was just a simple ring - it wouldn't stop Clint from coming entirely, but it would make it more difficult, and Bucky was going to take full advantage.

The sounds coming from Clint were amazing. He'd thought that he'd heard all of Clint's sex noises, but obviously he had been wrong. These were downright animalistic, as if all Clint's attention and need was focused on coming.

Eventually, even at the slow pace he'd set, Clint started making familiar sounds of his orgasm coming close, so Bucky pulled out, causing Clint to cry out, "No!" Bucky chuckled at the look on his face - one of hurt betrayal that was so obviously put on that it almost made him laugh.

"Did I say you could come, boy?" Bucky asked.

"N-no," Clint said.

"That's what I thought." Leaning forward, he twisted one of Clint's nipples sharply until he gave an inarticulate cry. "One of these days, I'm going to tie you up and see if I can make you come from torturing these."

"Please," Clint whined. "Anything that makes me _come_."

Slowly, Bucky slid his cock back into Clint's hole and set the same pace as before. Clint strained upwards in the sling for a moment, and then fell back with a curse. 

Bucky did the same thing several times, working Clint up close to coming and then pulling out until he was off the edge, until Clint was practically hyperventilating in his bonds, begging and cursing in equal measure. 

Finally, when Bucky couldn't stand it any more, he slammed in deep and started to fuck hard and fast. "You know the rules, boy - you come before I do or you don't get to come at all," he said, starting to pant himself with how hard it was not to come. 

"Isn't going to be a problem, Sergeant," Clint said, once again straining up to meet each of Bucky's increasingly erratic thrusts. "Just... a... little... more..." Then, with a sudden cry, he was coming hard, shooting all the way up to get come on his face and in his hair. 

Bucky let go at that, chasing his own orgasm until he was coming so hard he had to cling to the chains of the sling to keep from collapsing. He leaned forward, not caring that he was getting Clint's come on his face, resting his forehead on Clint's belly as they both panted, trying to catch their breaths.

Finally, he stood up and carefully slid out, holding the condom in place. A look around showed that they had an audience of ten or fifteen men, who were starting to disperse now that the show was over. Bucky was a little disturbed that he hadn't realized they were there, but Clint must have caught him looking around, because he said, "I knew they were there, Bucky. It's fine."

Easy for Clint to say - with him in the sling, Clint's safety was actually Bucky's responsibility, but he knew that the club was safe, knew it in his gut, or he'd never have let his situational awareness down that much.

Grabbing some paper towels, he cleaned his face up, and then Clint's face, before releasing the restraints and helping Clint get down. He held Clint's arms until he seemed steady on his feet, and then made quick work of cleaning up the condom and the sling. 

By the time he was done, Clint's pants were back on and he was pulling on his t-shirt. Bucky grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in for a kiss that started dirty and only got more carnal from there, a kiss that Clint returned with interest. Finally breaking away, he brushed his lips over Clint's ear. "Good?"

"Yeah," Clint said. "So very good. Sorry about the... issue there. I should have warned you."

Bucky shook his head. "It's on both of us - I should have asked before I took it that direction. Before I try something else off the list, I'll ask."

Clint chuckled. "Listen to us. Busy blaming ourselves for something that was no one's fault. Besides, it was all good in the end."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. Stooping down, he grabbed the plug off the floor. "Take this and wash it so that we can stash it in your pocket for the ride home."

"You know, there's a better place to put that than my pocket," Clint said with a leer.

"I make you ride the subway a second time with that up your ass, you're going to be too sore for the second fuck I have planned for you." 

"I like being fucked raw," Clint said. "And I like knowing that I'm being made ready for a good fuck. "

Bucky couldn't argue the point. "Fine. Go clean it up, and come back here. But be ready for when we get back to the tower."

Clint started to walk away, looking back over his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll be ready."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knife play, Tops not knowing their limits, implications that Winter Soldier was used to commit torture, implications of thoughts of self-harm

"Hey, Bucky?" Clint asked one night after dinner. They were lounging on Clint's sofa, flipping channels casually.

"Yeah?" Bucky looked every inch the lazy cat, lying back relaxed, eyes half shut, but Clint knew that at the first sign of a threat he'd be up and ready.

"I have something for us to try." Clint was a little nervous. This had been one of his favorite things with Phil, and it was marked as such on his list, but Bucky had never suggested it. Clint wasn't sure why.

Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his head so that he was looking at Clint with interest. "Oh, really? Well, don't keep it to yourself. Spill."

"Easier to show you," Clint said. "Be right back."

Going into his bedroom, he grabbed the kit from the closet, and took a deep breath. He knew that there was every chance that Bucky would say no, and that was all right. He just wanted to see if he'd even give it a chance.

When Clint went back out in the living room, carrying the briefcase, Bucky's eyebrows went up and he sat up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "What have you got there, boy?"

Clint set the case down on the coffee table and flipped it open, showing the selection of knives inside. Bucky's face immediately tightened, but he didn't say no, so Clint decided to go ahead. "They're not sharp, Bucky." He picked one up - a wicked looking boot dagger - and handed it to him so that he could test the edges. "The tips can leave scratches, but you can't cut me with them, I swear."

"I'm not sure about this," Bucky said. "I - knives aren't for playing."

"These _are_ ," Clint argued. "That's exactly what these are for. Unless you actually try to stab me, you can't hurt me. This is all about the mind fuck."

Bucky was frowning, his thumb running down the edge of the dagger over and over again. "You really like this?"

"I love it," Clint said. "It's so much fun - you can get me all worked up and then use me however you want. Get me in the right mindset and I'll let you use my mouth, my ass, anything."

Giving him a grin that didn't reach his eyes, Bucky said, "I already do that. Don't need knives for it."

Clint smiled back encouragingly. "True. Now think about how eager I'll be after you mindfuck me into oblivion. I mean, I obviously know that these knives can't hurt me. But when you're using them to trace lines over my skin, I'll forget, and combine that with just talking menacingly, and you'll have me begging to be your slut in no time."

Bucky bit his lip, but finally he nodded. "Okay, we can give it a try. Where should we do this?"

"I set up a massage table in the spare bedroom," Clint said. His face felt hot at the obvious premeditation he was showing, but the idea that he might get this back overruled anything he might have resembling modesty.

"That'll work," Bucky said. "Lead the way."

Clint took the dagger out of Bucky's hands and put it back in the case before closing it up. Picking the whole thing up, he headed towards the rarely used second bedroom. He knew that most of the occupants of the tower had set up the spare bedrooms they'd been given with actual furniture, but his was mostly empty. He didn't need an office and there wasn't anyone he was going to invite to stay with him. It was usually just wasted space.

But right now there was a massage table in the middle of the room, with a dinner tray set up by the head. Setting the case on the tray, he started to strip down. Before he could get all the way bare, though, Bucky had wound his hand into Clint's hair and pulled him in for a kiss. It wasn't one of his hard, possessive kisses - it was too tentative for that - but it was still hot.

When Bucky released him, he slid his shorts down his legs, and then hopped up on the table, lying down on his stomach. While he loved the sensation of the knives dragging over his cock and balls, he figured that would be a step too far for Bucky, at least at first. "I'm ready," he said, as soon as he was settled.

Bucky stepped up to the side of the table and ran his hands down Clint's back. Clint couldn't help but shiver a little - the metal hand was a little chilly on his bare skin - but he pushed up into the touch, trying to make it firmer. Bucky laughed and gave Clint's ass a slap. "Stay still," he ordered, his voice firm, and some of Clint's worry and doubt started to slide away.

The hands disappeared, and Clint closed his eyes, willing his muscles to relax. He could hear the case open, and the sounds of metal on metal. Then one of the blades started to draw a fine line down his spine, and Clint groaned. Bucky was using mostly the point, so it was scratchy, and that hint of pain with the fact that, regardless of what Clint said, Bucky could make these knives weapons if he wanted, got in his brain and squirmed around, making itself at home.

For several minutes, Bucky drew lines all over Clint's back with the tip of the knife as Clint whimpered in mindless lust. Then, suddenly, the force behind it increased. Not much, not enough to actually _hurt_ Clint in any way, but Bucky swore loudly. 

"What is it?" Clint asked. "What's wrong?"

"You're bleeding," Bucky said, his voice strained to the breaking point. "I made you bleed. I thought you said that I couldn't do that with these knives?"

"What?" Clint pushed up and twisted around, trying to see his own back. "Bucky, you might have scratched me, but you certainly didn't _cut_ me. I think I would know." Bucky was starting to hyperventilate, and Clint twisted even further, trying to figure out what exactly had gone wrong. "Bucky, talk to me," he pled. "Come on. You didn't hurt me. It's fine!"

As Clint tried to turn over so that he could get a hand on Bucky, who was backing away from the massage table, he lost track of where he was on the massage table, overbalanced, and slid off the edge. He managed to catch his balance before he hit the floor, but that seemed to be the last straw for Bucky, who threw the knife hard enough to embed it in the wall, shoved over the table with the rest of the kit, and took off out of the room.

"Well, fuck," Clint said. "That could have gone better. JARVIS, watch him. Let me know where he's going."

"Yes, Agent Barton," JARVIS said. "He's currently in the stairway, headed down. I will let you know when he reaches his desired floor."

"You're a bro, JARVIS," Clint said, reaching for his clothes and starting to pull them on. He could feel the scratch on his back, but, seriously, it stung less than the time he'd gotten scratched by a cat one of his SHIELD friends had. He didn't understand what had happened, and depending on where Bucky went, he figured he might need some time to cool down. But he wanted to be ready to go.

Once he was dressed, he turned his attention to cleaning up the knife kit. The knives were currently spread across the floor, and it took several minutes to get them gathered together and back into their slots in the case. Then he went over and looked at the one sticking out of the wall. It was sunk several inches deep, and it took quite a bit of pulling to get it loose, leaving a small hole in the plaster.

"Agent Barton, Sergeant Barnes has exited the stairway at the range and has entered. He is not currently shooting targets, but he does have his gun."

"Fuck!" Clint set the case aside and said, "JARVIS, call the elevator. I'm going to need an express ride down. And let me know if he does anything stupid."

"Understood, Agent Barton."

Clint didn't bother to yank on his shoes, he just headed out of the apartment and waited impatiently for the elevator that was rising swiftly. It opened on his floor, and he stepped in. It immediately started back down. "Unless someone is bleeding to death, don't stop," Clint said.

JARVIS didn't say anything, but the elevator seemed to be moving faster than usual, as if JARVIS was also concerned about the situation. Within four minutes, the door was opening on the basement level, and Clint was through it like a shot. The light on the range door was green, which meant that Bucky hadn't locked it. Still, he opened the anteroom, stepped in, and paused. 

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his his heart, which was hammering in his chest. He could handle this, and if he couldn't, he could stop Bucky long enough to get other members of the team down here. But that wasn't going to be necessary.

It wasn't.

Pressing the admission button, he waited for a few seconds to make sure that he wasn't going to get shot full of bullets by startling Bucky, and then he cautiously opened the door. "Bucky?" he called, when he wasn't immediately visible.

"Here," Bucky said, his voice soft and coming from the last lane. Clint approached cautiously, and was surprised to find Bucky sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his gun sitting on the floor in front of him. 

Maybe he should have gotten Steve instead, but he was here now, and he and Bucky were in some sort of relationship, so he was going to handle it. "Heya Bucky," he said softly, kneeling in front of him, and not so incidentally pushing the gun further away. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"They used to make me do stuff like that," Bucky said. 

Clint didn't need to ask like what - he'd seen the files. Usually the Winter Soldier's kills were clean, but not always. Sometimes they were designed to frighten someone back into line. Those kills were anything but clean. He should have thought of it.

"And the knives reminded you of that?" Clint asked, keeping his voice gentle.

"That, and the blood," Bucky said. "I just - Clint, I can't do that again. Not even in play. I'm sorry."

"Shh," Clint said. "I'm going to come closer, okay?"

Bucky nodded, his breath shaky and harsh in the quiet of the range. 

Clint shuffled forward on his knees until he was within reaching distance of Bucky, and carefully gathered him into his arms. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?" he asked.

"You said that it was something you really liked," Bucky said, his voice muffled by the fact that his face was buried in Clint's shoulder. 

"I really like lots of things," Clint said. "I am a wide and varied individual. But just because _I_ like something, doesn't mean you have to do it. Consent goes both ways, right?"

Bucky nodded, and his breathing started to calm. "Bucky, I'll never ask you to do that again," Clint asked. "And next time I ask you to do something that you don't like? Just tell me, okay?"

"I thought I could handle it," Bucky said, pulling back slightly so that he could meet Clint's eyes. "I didn't know it was going to be a problem until it was one."

"Fair enough. If that happens again, then you should safeword, and it stops, just like for me. No harm, no foul." Clint pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky's face.

"Tops don't have safewords," Bucky scoffed.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Some tops do. And since when are there any had and fast rules other than the ones that we set? So, we make sure you have a safeword, just like I do. And if it becomes too much, you use it. Do you want stoplights or special words?"

Bucky took one last shuddering breath and then muttered, "Stoplights are fine."

"So, if you're getting overwhelmed by something and need to talk it through, you say yellow. If you need to stop, you say red. And just like for me, there's no repercussions for it." Clint squeezed him tight and then slowly let go, settling back on his heels so that they were looking straight at each other.

"Look, I know you don't want to put a word to what we are, but I'm pretty sure that at this point we have to admit this is a lot more than just casual. And that means we take care of each other, right?" Clint said.

Bucky looked quizzical. "Who says I don't want to put a word to us?"

"Um, I guess I just assumed. We hadn't talked about it or anything," Clint said.

"I'm pretty sure because neither one of us want to talk about anything unless we're forced to," Bucky said with a shaky grin. "Emotions suck."

"They really, really do," Clint agreed. "So, what? Boyfriends? Something else?"

"I dunno," Bucky said. "Boyfriends seems fine. I like it better than partners, anyway. Especially since in the field, that's usually Steve. It makes it weird."

"Okay, then. I prefer it, too, " Clint said, shuddering at being confused with Steve by someone. Besides, his partner had been Phil. "Boyfriends it is."

Bucky's smile had softened, becoming something more real, and Clint reached out to run the backs of his fingers down his face. "Let's get off the floor, okay?"

When Bucky nodded, Clint pushed up off the floor, followed quickly by Bucky. Bending over, Bucky picked up his gun, and cleared the chamber. "Can I ask a promise?" Clint asked.

"You can ask," Bucky said, side-eyeing him. 

"Don't come here if you're upset. I don't care where else you go, but not somewhere there's guns." Now that things were calming down, Clint was shuddering at what could have happened if he hadn't come down.

"I wasn't going to hurt myself," Bucky said, but his voice gave away his uncertainty.

"I didn't say you were," Clint said. "I just - don't put yourself in a position where that might be easier to do. I don't need to have a heart attack again."

"Sorry," Bucky said. He turned and headed to the equipment rack at the back of the room, stashing his gun. "I didn't think about what it would do to you if you found out I was coming down here."

"Yeah, I figured. I also noticed that you didn't promise," Clint said. 

"You know that I don't need a gun to hurt myself," Bucky said, turning to face Clint squarely. 

"It makes it easier," Clint argued gently. "Just - just don't, okay? I can't deal with it."

"All right," Bucky said, coming back to Clint. "I won't come down here when I'm upset - unless you, Steve, or Sam are with me. Fair?"

"Yes," Clint said. "Now, how about we get out of the tower for a while?"

"I need to clean up the scratch on your back," Bucky said.

"The knives are clean," Clint said. "And you barely scratched me. I think the last thing you need right now is to see that."

Bucky bit his lip, as if he was thinking. After a second, he nodded. "Fine. Chili for dinner?"

The chili restaurant three blocks away wasn't Clint's favorite place, but right now, he figured that Bucky probably needed comfort food. "Chili it is. I need to go back to the apartment and grab my shoes and jacket. Why don't you go hang out in the penthouse for a few minutes?"

"Going back to your apartment isn't going to break me." Bucky grabbed Clint and reeled him in for a kiss. "Sam asking me about my feelings just might. Let's go get your stuff and get out of here."

Clint grinned, a little relieved at Bucky's willingness to go back. He was also glad that he'd cleaned up the knives, though. "Let's go, then. What are we waiting for?"

"You got me," Bucky said, going over to the door and holding it open. Clint ducked under his arm, and they headed out.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Clint and Natasha being bros

Natasha saw Bucky, Steve, and Sam on their way out of the tower, bickering quietly amongst themselves. She smothered the smile just in case anyone was looking, but she had to admit that the bromance between the three of them was the funniest thing she'd seen in a long time, especially since Steve no longer had his head up his ass about Clint. 

Speaking of, if Bucky was with Steve, that meant that Clint was probably alone right now. While she didn't begrudge the time he spent with Bucky, she wanted to see if he was around to just talk to. "JARVIS, where's Clint?" she asked, once she was in the elevator.

"Agent Barton is on the roof, Agent Romanoff," JARVIS answered.

Clint being up high didn't surprise Natasha at all. "Take me there, please?" she asked.

"Of course."

The elevator didn't actually go all the way to the roof, but from the penthouse, it was just up a flight of stairs to the door out to the roof. In his effort to make the building as green as possible, there were enough plants and small trees up here that there wasn't a clear line of sight, even with most of them dormant for winter, but Natasha knew she'd find Clint at the edge, so she followed the path away from the center and then circled around until she spotted him, sitting on the edge of the building, leaning back on his hands.

While she wasn't afraid of heights, precisely, she didn't have Clint's love of them, either. And she didn't want to startle him when he was that close, so she shuffled her feet a little, making noise as she approached. Clint twisted, looking back at her, and flashed a grin at her. "Hey, Nat," he said, scooting back away from the ledge. 

Once he was a few feet away from the precipice, Natasha sank down so that she could sit next to him. "Hey, Clint. Haven't seen you in a few days."

"That's not true," he defended. "You saw me last night at dinner."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I haven't seen you without you being attached at the hip to a certain supersoldier."

It was completely unsurprising that his smile turned a little goofy. She'd seen Clint in love before. He'd been just as goofy about Phil the entire time they'd been together. Natasha knew that relationships were supposed to grow less heated, more settled over time, but it was like no one had ever explained that to Clint. And the first person who did was getting their ass handed to them by Natasha.

"You look happy," she said. "Are you?"

"Most of the time," he said. She knew he was being honest because he believed that she would know if he was lying. What he didn't know was that when it came to her, he telegraphed his lies so clearly that he was practically skywriting them.

"And when you're not?" she asked. 

"It's mostly when I think about Phil," he said. "I'm happy with Bucky - he's fun, he's willing to try new things, he takes good care of me." Clint looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. "But I feel a little like I'm betraying Phil by moving on."

"Clint, you know that he wouldn't want you to mourn him forever," she said. "He'd be happy that you'd found someone good for you."

"You think he's good for me?" Clint asked, still staring at his hands.

"Unless you're about to tell me a reason that I shouldn't think that?" Natasha said, a little concerned.

He looked up at her. "No, I'm not. We had a... misunderstanding the other day, but we sorted it out like grown ups. You would have been proud of me."

"Anyone get hurt?" Natasha asked, still wanting more information.

Clint wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Not in any way that was disliked."

"Ew, Clint," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Bad enough I know the kinds of things that you like. I don't want to know details."

He laughed, and some of the tension dissipated. "So I shouldn't tell you that I really like it when he raids my toy bag and - "

She shoved his shoulder, and he stopped. Then he said, "Yeah, I know Phil would want me happy. He made that plenty clear over the years we were together. But I still miss him. I think I always will."

Natasha nodded. "I will, too," she said. "Obviously it's different, but he didn't have to take a chance on me when you brought me in. He did anyway, and it was because he trusted you. He loved you every moment of every day, Clint, even when you were being as dumb as a box of rocks."

"Ah, when am I not that dumb?" Clint asked, laughing.

"You aren't, actually," she said. "You put on a good act, and some people buy into it. But Phil knew better, I know better - has Bucky figured it out yet?"

Clint's face was slightly pink, and he was staring at the rooftop, not meeting her eyes. "Um, I _think_ so."

"I could always explain it to him," Natasha offered, not trying to keep her laughter out of her voice. "I mean, that should be something that he understands before you guys get any deeper into this thing."

Oh, interesting. The faint pink flush deepened suddenly to a bright, painful, red. "Clint? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"So, we may have had a relationship talk, sorta?" Clint said, sounding very abashed.

"Really," she said, stretching it out. "So what did you decide? Was the L word used? Was there good relationship sex?"

"Natasha!" Clint said, faintly scandalized. "I thought you didn't want to know about my sex life?"

"And I don't," she said, placidly. "I don't need the details, thanks. Just a yes or no will suffice."

He laughed, and it was a lot more carefree than it had been in a long time. "Yes, there was relationship sex. We agreed that there _was_ a relationship, which, you know, took me and Phil like two years, so I've grown as a person."

"It took _you_ two years," Natasha corrected. "Phil knew that it was a relationship the second time you had sex. But you weren't ready to hear that. So yeah, I'd say you've grown - it only took you six months this time."

"Aw, fuck off," Clint said, but he was smiling. "So, anyway, you can safely refer to him as my boyfriend. We both agreed that partner was too weird given how he works mostly with Steve."

"Yeah, I can see how that would be weird." Leaving aside that that had been how Clint and Phil had referred to each other, Natasha noticed that Clint was getting fidgety. She realized that she had about sixty seconds more of relationship talk before Clint changed the subject, so she decided to have mercy on him and do it for him "So, what are you looking at up here?"

"Just watching the neighboring buildings," he said, twisting back around to look back over the side. "It's nice up here - quiet - and I like the plants. It's soothing."

"You kill plants, Clint," she said. "I find it surprising that you find them soothing."

"They're not plants I have to take care of," Clint said. "Therefore, soothing and not stressful. Besides, it's cold, so most of them are in hibernation, except for the pine trees."

"Yeah," she said. "I can see the appeal."

She scooted a little closer, turning so that she was also looking over the side. Leaning back on her hands, mirroring the position he'd been in when she got there, she said, "So tell me what you see," and then settled in to listen.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> butt plugs, public sex (Bucky bottoming), shaving, cock ring, pet names, multiple orgasms

Clint wasn't surprised when Bucky let himself into Clint's apartment. They'd long gotten past the point of him bothering to knock, so as long as he announced himself rather than sneaking up behind Clint, it was all good. But having a pile of paper dropped into his lap was a little bit of a surprise.

It only took a glance for Clint to realize that it was the kink list he'd sent Bucky, printed out and filled in. "Decided to go ahead and do it?" he asked.

"Eh, I was bored and it was either this or work out with Steve and Sam. And I'm getting damn tired of the googly eyes they make at each other. I wish they'd either stop or just go ahead and fuck already," Bucky groused, flopping down on the sofa. 

Clint knew a good boyfriend would ask, give Bucky the chance to get his annoyance off his chest, but his attention was definitely on the list in his hands. "Can I - " he started to ask.

"I gave it to you, didn't I?" Bucky said, a little defensively. "Yeah, go ahead. But read the notes, okay? I don't want to have to explain some things."

"You know it doesn't work that way," Clint said. "We keep going through this."

"Fine," Bucky said with a huff. "But you have to read it all the way through, first."

"Fair enough," Clint said, and then started to read. He was surprised on the very first page, because Bucky had marked several things as "Topping" and "Bottoming", and both anal sex and plugs were marked under both. 

While occasionally Bucky wanted Clint to fuck him, it was rare enough that Clint was really surprised every time it happened. He looked up at Bucky, who was giving him a challenging glare. Instead of asking right away, he started to look through the list in detail. He skipped around, focusing on the things that were marked as interests or off-limits.

Given what they'd already done, and what he knew about Bucky's history, he wasn't surprised that while Bucky was willing to top for almost any sort of bondage, it was a hard limit for him as a bottom. Any sort of medical play was completely off the table. Chastity - that was marked as an interest as a top, and Clint would probably be okay with that, for a little while, anyway. Any sort of bodily fluid that wasn't sex related was a no-go. Fisting - he'd made a note that he was curious about doing it to Clint, and while that wasn't a particular interest of Clint's, he'd think about it.

Anything involving sensory deprivation as a bottom was out, but he hadn't indicated whether it was a limit for him as a top. He was adamant that he didn't want to share Clint with others, which Clint was good with. Hair pulling - again, interested in both giving and receiving. Clint had noticed his attempts to pull Clint's hair and had grown it out a bit specifically for that, but other than the one time on the roof in D.C., he hadn't pulled Bucky's. If Bucky liked having his pulled, Clint would be happy to oblige more often.

Anything permanent was out. Anything that treated one of them as an inanimate object was out which was also fine with Clint. Sleep deprivation was out. But shaving body hair was marked as a wild turn on - on both sides. 

Setting the list aside, he turned to meet Bucky's eyes. The list raised a lot of possibilities in Clint's head, but he figured he'd start relatively small. Plugs and public sex were both on Bucky's list of things he'd like to bottom for, and Clint had... ideas. 

"So, given what you've put down here, I was thinking of returning the favor from a couple of weeks ago - plug you, take you to the club, and then fuck you in the sling. Is that something you'd be in favor of?" Clint asked, keeping his voice carefully even.

Bucky's eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open just a little. He swallowed hard and then said, just as evenly, "Yes, I think - I think that sounds good. When do you want to go?"

Clint grinned. "Lucky for you, I have a bunch of silicone toys, which means they just need to be sterilized and then I can use them on you. So, I'm thinking tonight?"

"That soon? I mean, yes, yes, that works for me," Bucky said, practically babbling. Clint wondered a little if he'd spent all morning filling in this list and working himself up by thinking about it. Not that Clint had any room to talk - that was what he'd done years ago. 

"Great. Let me get the toy box so you can pick out a plug," Clint said.

"I don't - I want you to pick it out for me," Bucky said. His voice was different; softer, younger, maybe. This was a Bucky who apparently wanted Clint to be in charge. While Clint wasn't particularly _good_ at it, he could make it work if he tried. And for Bucky, he'd try.

He did some fast thinking. He could sterilize a plug in the dishwasher since it had a sanitize cycle, and with the top end model that he had, it would only take about an hour. But what to do in the meantime... oh!

Trying to make his voice firm, he said, "Go back to your apartment. Take another shower, and shave. Get dressed for the club and come back here."

Bucky looked confused. "I already shaved today."

Giving him a wicked little grin, Clint said, "I bet you didn't shave around your dick."

Bucky's eyes about bugged out of his head, but he gave a strangled "No," in response. 

"Well, go do that. Nice and bare for me. Balls too. Don't come back for at least ninety minutes."

Even though he was nodding his head, Bucky made no move to stand up until Clint said, "Bucky, you need to go do what I told you if you want any of this to happen."

Bucky seemed to realize then that he hadn't actually moved, and stood up so fast that the couch actually shifted. Then he paused, and said, "I don't - can I leave my shirt on at the club?"

Clint stood up as well, wrapped his fist in Bucky's hair and gave him a quick kiss. "Of course you can," he said. "The idea is for you to have fun. If you're worried, you're not having fun."

Some indefinable tension bled out of Bucky's muscles, and he hurried to the door, not even looking back as he left the apartment. All right, that gave Clint ninety minutes.

Going to the bedroom, he pulled out the bin of toys, and sorted out the half dozen or so that were silicone. Two he eliminated immediately - one was way too big for someone who wasn't used to it, and the other was way too small. He eyed the four remaining ones, conscious of time passing, and finally grabbed one that was large enough so that Bucky would definitely feel it without hurting him. Then he turned back and grabbed the other three - might as well sterilize them all for use at the same time.

Thankfully, the dishwasher was empty, so Clint put them on the top shelf, closed it, and started it running. Then he turned his attention to his own shower. 

If he was going to make Bucky shave, only fair if he did it too, and while he'd been keeping everything trimmed, it was different from shaving down to skin. At one time he'd been very practiced at it, and even though it had been a while, the routine was one that Clint definitely remembered. It added about ten minutes to his normal shower, taking his time because cuts were no fun. 

Clean, he dressed no differently than he normally did for the club. Bucky had never shown any particularly attention in any of the trappings of dressing like a "Domly dom" so Clint figured he probably wasn't all that interested in Clint doing it. He didn't bother with underwear, though, and the feeling of the denim rubbing against newly shaved skin was enough to make him groan a little. He always forgot how sensitive he was when he was bare like this.

Going back to the toy box, he dug through until he found one of the sturdier cock rings. He knew from experience that Bucky could get off several times in a row, and if he was willing to put himself out there like this, Clint was going to make it as good for him as he possibly could. Grabbing one of the small bags off the shelf in the closet, he tucked in the ring and some condoms.

He got back out to the living room just in time to hear the dishwasher beep the completion of the cycle, so he opened it, letting out a cloud of steam. Gingerly, he pulled out the toy and set it on the counter to cool, leaving the others to deal with later. Checking his watch, he saw that he had about another twenty-five minutes before Bucky was due to be back, so he went back to the couch and started perusing Bucky's list again, curious if he had missed anything.

Deep in thoughts about what some of this might mean for playtime - did Bucky want to switch off more often? - he didn't hear the door open, and Bucky's hand on his shoulder startled him. Twisting around, he looked up at Bucky and smiled. 

Bucky smiled back, but he also looked a little nervous. Clint stood up and circled the sofa, pulling Bucky in for a hug. "Remember, safewords are good," he said. "And if you want, we can do this here. Don't even have to go out at all."

Bucky shook his head. "No, I want to do this," he said. "I just haven't bottomed in public in a long time."

"But it's something you've done before?" Clint asked. "Sometime you'll have to tell me that story. Now, want to see what you're going to be wearing to the club?"

"Yes, please," Bucky said, and then bit his lip. Clint couldn't help but think he looked adorable, and he found himself giving Bucky a deep thorough kiss without even thinking about it.

When they broke apart, Bucky was suitably winded, and Clint felt a little bit like a sex god. Bucky didn't even get winded when he was racing _Steve_ , for Christ's sake. "Stay here," he said, and went into the kitchen to get the plug. It was a blue and white swirled one that made Clint think a little of Bucky's eyes, not that he'd ever admit that out loud.

Bucky's eyes went straight to his hand as he came back into the living room, and he licked his lips. "Okay?" Clint asked, holding it up. 

"Perfect," Bucky said, his voice cracking in the middle. "How do you want me?"

"Drop 'em and bend over," Clint said, nodding towards the sofa. It was gratifying to see how fast Bucky was to unbuckle his pants and shove them down to his ankles before bending over the back of the sofa, his hands on the cushion. 

It was obvious even from behind that Bucky had done what he'd been told to do, and his naked balls hung down. Clint couldn't resist the urge to reach forward and run his hand over them, and then up, feeling the smooth skin around his cock. "You did good, Bucky," Clint said. "That feels so nice. Does it feel good to you too?"

Bucky nodded, his face rubbing against the back of the sofa and his hair falling in his face. Under Clint's hand, Bucky's cock began to fill, and he let go, not wanting for Bucky to go off just yet.

Snatching the lube off the side table, Clint slicked up a finger and slowly started to slide inside. Bucky was always so tight, and Clint didn't want to make this painful for him. But Bucky whimpered and said, "Harder," which made Clint rethink what Bucky was getting out of this.

He was going to stretch Bucky well before he slid the plug into place, but he guessed he could go a little faster, adding a second finger and moving them in and out fast enough that Bucky groaned and relaxed into the sofa, almost like his muscles were melting.

By the time Clint was fucking Bucky with three fingers, Bucky's hips were rolling with each thrust and all Clint could think about was getting his dick into Bucky's ass. But that wasn't what Bucky wanted, so Clint held back. 

After giving a couple of more thrusts with his fingers, he slowly pulled them out. Clint really didn't have a word to describe the sound that Bucky made at that, but it went straight to Clint's cock, making him rock hard. He was pretty sure that this subway trip was going to be damn uncomfortable for both of them.

Picking up the plug, he slicked it thoroughly, and then started to slide it in, fucking Bucky with it a little bit until it was all the way in, his hole clenched tight around the neck. Once it was firmly seated, Clint pushed on the base, just once, and then said, "Pull up your pants, now."

When Bucky stood up, he was moving gingerly, but he slowly pulled his jeans up and fastened them. Clint then ran his hand down the front, feeling how Bucky's hard cock distorted the fly. "So gorgeous," he said. 

Stepping away, he bit his lip to keep from smiling at the way that Bucky wobbled a little on his feet. He knew that feeling, knew it only too well. "Ready to go to the club?" he asked, trying to sound as confident as possible. 

"Yeah," Bucky said. "Yeah, let's go."

Clint took his hand, grabbed the small bag after adding the lube, and headed for the door.

Thankfully for Bucky's sake, the subway and PATH cars were completely full, which meant that Clint couldn't insist that he sit down for the ride. Clint knew that ride, knew that it was excruciatingly pleasurable in a way that nothing else could duplicate, but this was Bucky's first time doing this, so it was just as well.

By the time they got to the club, the place was hopping. For once, Clint didn't bother to stop at the bar, because he was pretty sure if he did, Bucky would positively explode, he was vibrating so hard from lust. Unfortunately, the sling was in use when they headed back to the play space. 

Clint pulled Bucky over to the padded seats around the sling and urged him to sit. Bucky did so, clearly reluctant, and as soon as his ass hit the seat, his posture went so straight that it was hard not to burst out laughing.

The couple in the sling looked like they were finishing up, so Clint turned his attention to Bucky. "I want to make this good for you," he said, handing over the bag. "So open that up and see what's in there."

Bucky unzipped the small pack, and then looked up at Clint, a quizzical look on his face. "A ring? But - "

"It's not for you," Clint interrupted. "It's for me. So that I can fuck you as long as possible. _You_ get to come as many times as you want."

"Oh," Bucky said, his eyes round. "Um, okay. So - "

"Take it out, put it on me," Clint said. 

Bucky, who was normally so careful and controlled, nearly fumbled the bag and its contents, trying to get the ring out. Setting the bag on the floor and the ring on the bench, he turned his attention to undoing Clint's pants, only to pause when he realized that Clint's groin was as bare as his own.

Clint ran his hand through Bucky's hair, and then used it to turn his face up. "What's good for you is good for me, right?" he said. "Come on, put it on me, pretty."

Even in the dim light, Clint could see that Bucky flushed at that. Pet names wasn't something they normally did, unless you counted "Sergeant" or "boy", but clearly Bucky liked being reminded that he was pretty. "Do you like me calling you that?" Clint asked, faux innocently. As if there was any doubt.

Bucky nodded, but didn't look back up, focusing his attention on fastening the ring around Clint's cock and balls. It was tight, and the way it fastened above Clint's balls would do an excellent job of delaying his orgasm. Once it was in place, he let Bucky continue to stroke his cock slowly, as if he was measuring it or memorizing it for a peculiar type of test. 

Finally, the couple using the sling finished up, the top wiping it down as the bottom stumbled off to the bathroom. Clint exchanged smiles with the guy as they switched places. "Take off your coat and everything below the waist," Clint said. 

Bucky did as he was told, and then hesitated. Then, suddenly, he was yanking off the long sleeved T he was wearing as well, putting the arm firmly on display. 

He stood there, trembling, and Clint moved in to wrap him up in his arms. "You didn't have to do that, but I'm proud of you," he said. "Such a good, pretty boy. And see? No one is saying anything."

Lifting his head, Bucky looked around a little wildly, as if he expected everyone to be pointing and whispering behind their hands. But Clint had suspected for a long time that most of the club had guessed who they were, and wasn't surprised that no one said anything about the long stretch of metal, extending up to Bucky's collar bone. Clint was used to it, and gently stroked along the edge where metal met flesh, trying to soothe Bucky back down.

"Are you ready?" he asked after a minute.

"Yeah," Bucky said. "Yeah, more than ready."

"Then get up there," Clint said, and stood back as Bucky climbed onto the sling. They hadn't discussed the cuffs that were part of the sling, but Clint didn't need to. There was no way that he was ever going to restrain Bucky, not unless Bucky specifically asked for it. So he just helped him get settled and then turned his attention to taking his own clothes off and setting them aside.

The sling was a little high for Clint, so he adjusted the chain a little, lowering it so that he wouldn’t have to strain to reach Bucky’s ass. Bucky squirmed and clung to the chains by his shoulders as he did, and Clint could only guess at the way it jostled the plug inside Bucky.

Finally, he was satisfied with everything, and he stepped back, admiring the way that Bucky looked, lying cradled in the sling. He slowly stroked his cock, which was already hard enough to pound nails but the look on Bucky’s face when he realized what Clint was doing made it very worth it.

When Clint couldn’t stand not to be touching Bucky, he pulled out a condom, rolled it on his cock, and then stepped forward between Bucky’s legs. Twisting and tugging at the plug, he listened carefully to the sounds that Bucky was making, which as the seconds ticked by went from needy to _desperate_. Only then did Clint pull out the plug and set it aside. Adding more lube to the condom on his cock, he slowly slid inside Bucky’s hole, groaning as he did so.

All the other times he’d fucked Bucky, it had been slow and gentle. But this time, Bucky lifted his head, met Clint’s gaze straight on, and asked, “Please? Fast and hard?”

How could Clint say no?

So he started to move a lot harder and faster than he had ever fucked Bucky before. It became quickly obvious that it was exactly what Bucky wanted, because he groaned loudly, squirming as if he could get Clint deeper that way. “Don’t forget,” Clint said. “You can come as often as you want to. I’m not going to stop until I come - whether you’ve come twice or ten times. Use your hand if you need to.”

Bucky whimpered, and one of his hands let go of the death grip it had on the chain holding up the sling to wrap around his cock. His first stroke was tentative, but Clint said, “Come on, Bucky. Don’t you want to come?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Bucky gasped out, the grip on his cock tightening, his hand moving faster. Within a few moments, he was coming hard over his hand, shooting all over his stomach and chest. He clenched down hard around Clint’s cock, and Clint had to pause for a moment before it became too much. 

As soon as the tight clench started to release, Clint resumed his pounding of Bucky’s ass. Bucky cried out, but there was no mistaking that sound as anything but good, so Clint just kept going, pounding Bucky’s ass thoroughly. “By the time I’m done with you, your ass is going to be so loose from being fucked,” he said, keeping his voice low and firm. “You’re going to be begging me to come in your ass before I stop.”

Bucky’s eyes were practically rolling back in his head, as if just the thought was enough to make him overwhelmed, and his hand started to move on his cock again, which had never gone soft. “Is it good?” Clint demanded. “Tell me if it’s good.”

“Oh, god, so good,” Bucky said, his voice slurred. “Don’t stop. No matter what, don’t stop.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Clint said. “You’re not anywhere close to finished yet.”

Just like that, Bucky was coming again, adding to the mess on his torso, and Clint couldn’t resist. He grabbed the hand that was wrapped around Bucky’s cock and pulled it up, so that he could lick through the mess all over the fingers.

Bucky whimpered, his hole clenching tight, squirming even more. “Uh, uh, uh,” he grunted, pulling his legs up a little. “Deeper, oh, god, deeper.”

Clint wasn’t quite sure how to do that - his cock was only as long as it was - but then he realized that if he put his hands under Bucky’s thighs and pushed them up in the sling, he might gain a little. When he did it, Bucky cried out, and Clint grinned. Perfect.

Sweat was pouring off both of them, and Clint had to rub his forehead against his shoulder so that he didn’t blind himself or let go of Bucky’s legs. Even through the condom, Bucky was so hot inside that Clint felt like he might spontaneously combust, but the cock ring was doing its job, letting him hold off his own orgasm. Without it, he would have long since exploded.

Bucky was thrashing weakly, but his cock was still hard, so Clint kept going. “Talk to me, pretty,” he said, and like the word itself was a trigger, Bucky groaned, his cock twitching hard. Clint grinned and said, “You are so pretty like this, Bucky. All spread out for me to fuck as long as I want. I never want to stop.”

“Oh, god,” Bucky groaned. “You can, as much as you want. All the time.”

Clint knew that sex talk didn’t mean much, and Bucky would probably need to be even more in charge for the next few days, but it still sounded good. “Yeah, Bucky,” he said. “I’m just going to roll you over and plow your ass all the time, now that I know what a cockslut you are.”

With a whimper, Bucky’s cock twitched again, this time a little bit of come dribbling out of the the slit. “You like that?” Clint asked. “You like being told you’re a slut?”

“ _Your_ slut,” Bucky slurred out, his eyes half open. He was practically limp in the harness, and Clint gradually slowed his strokes. 

“Just like I’m yours,” Clint said. He had to remind himself again that sex talk didn’t matter. He’d think about it when Bucky said it outside of sex. 

“Yeah.” Bucky looked like he was completely fucked out, and his cock was actually only at half mast, so Clint slowed even more. “Are you done, pretty? All fucked out?”

Bucky nodded a little. “But you need to come,” he said.

“I’m okay,” Clint said. It was only a little bit of a lie - if he pulled out now, he’d have to jerk off or have a hell of a case of blue balls, but if it was uncomfortable for Bucky, he’d stop.

“Want to feel you come,” Bucky said, his voice positively wrecked. “Don’t stop till you come.”

It was Clint’s turn to whimper a little. He let Bucky’s legs down, and then fumbled between his legs to the get the leather off his cock and balls. It fell away, and Clint groaned at the sudden relaxation of the constriction. It wasn’t going to take much more…

Bucky reached out with his metal hand, as though he was trying to reach Clint’s face. Clint didn’t know if he used that arm deliberately or because he forgot where they were, but either way, the way that Bucky let it be on display just because he wanted to touch Clint went shooting straight to Clint’s balls. With a loud groan, Clint pounded into Bucky for a half dozen more thrusts, and then let his orgasm slam through him, leaving him panting and clutching at the frame of the sling to stay upright.

When he felt like his legs would bear his weight, he grasped the condom at the base and slowly slid out of Bucky, who whimpered and clenched down, as if desperate to keep Clint inside him for a moment longer. Sinking down to his knees, Clint carefully checked Bucky’s hole for any signs that he might have actually injured him, but other than the fact that it was swollen and red, Bucky looked okay. Clint ran a fingertip over the tender flesh, loving the way it made Bucky gasp. “You okay, pretty?” he asked, already standing up. 

Bucky looked like he was completely fucked out, eyes hazy and soft, as he nodded. “ _So_ good,” he said, his voice ragged. “ _Thank you_.”

“Anytime,” Clint said. He reluctantly stepped away to gather up some paper towels to clean Bucky up, returning as quickly as possible. When he wiped Bucky’s cock off, Bucky cried out softly, and Clint gentled his touch. “Tender?”

“A little bit,” Bucky said, with a crooked smile on his face. “But only in the best of ways.”

“That’s good to hear.” When Bucky was sufficiently clean, Clint offered him an arm to help him get out of the sling. Bucky wasn’t as jelly-legged as Clint expected, but he still needed a second to catch his balance. Clint helped him dress, and then sat him down while he cleaned the sling and dressed himself. 

Then, arm in arm, they made their way to the social area, where Clint sat down on a nice soft sofa and urged Bucky to sit next to him, wrapping his arms around his chest and holding him as they relaxed. When all of the tension had seemed to drain out of Bucky’s body, Clint leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Next time we’ll go for five.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick conversation between Steve and Clint

Steve found Clint sitting on the sofa in the common room, playing one of the first person shooters he seemed to love. Steve didn’t get the appeal - it was basically what they did in their day job - but what did he know.

More importantly, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Clint,” Steve said, keeping his voice upbeat and light.

Clint looked up at Steve, and then around a little frantically, as if hoping they weren’t alone. When he realized that they were, he sighed, paused the game, and set down the controller. “Okay, let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

“Get what over with?” Steve asked, a little bit puzzled. Clint hadn’t ever been afraid of Steve before, so this seemed a little strange.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that if I’m not good to Bucky you’re going to kill me?” Clint asked.

“Why would I do that?” Steve went to the chair and sat down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Bucky, as he has reminded me many, many times, is an adult. He doesn’t need me to watch after him in his personal life.”

If anything, that made Clint tense up even further, and Steve frowned. This was not going the way he expected.

“So if you’re not going to threaten me about Bucky, then I must have screwed up on our last call out. What did I do wrong?” Clint looked as if he was bracing himself for a harsh scolding, and Steve’s frown deepened. He’d had a few brushes with Clint over Clint’s inability to understand that his safety was just as important as everyone else's, but he didn’t think he’d ever criticized Clint for his abilities.

“Nothing’s wrong, Clint,” Steve said, trying to sound soothing. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Now Clint just looked puzzled. “If I didn’t screw up and you don’t want to lecture me about Bucky, what is there to talk about?”

Steve wondered if he really had put that much distance between himself and Clint. Clearly the answer was yes, if Clint’s reaction to a simple conversation was anything to judge by. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” he said.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Clint asked, sounding incredulous. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I misjudged you when I found out you were dating Bucky. I only - I was trying to protect him, but I should have known that I could trust you.”

Clint shrugged. “Nothing to forgive, Cap,” he said, picking the controller back up. “You were taking care of your friend. I get that.”

“Clint -”

Sighing, Clint set the controller back down and turned back to Steve. “Yes?”

“I’d like us to be friends too, you know. Obviously, you spend a lot of time with Bucky, and I’d like to be there some of the time.” Clint smirked a little, and Steve realized how that must be coming across. “I mean, not when you’re looking for private time, though.”

“Oh, of course,” Clint said. “I guess we could do something. Maybe a double date with you and Sam?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to be flustered. “A date with Sam? Why would there be a date with Sam? I mean, we could do something as a group of friends, but I’m not dating Sam.”

“You sure about that?” Clint asked, and that smirk had grown even wider. “You spend more time with him than anyone but Bucky. You spend an awful lot of time staring at him at group dinners and movies nights. You -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve said, holding up his hands. “This isn’t about what many or may not be going on with me and Sam. Which is nothing, by the way. This is about us hanging out together.”

Clint looked as if he was choking back something, but Steve definitely did not want to know. He’d said what he’d set out to say, so he could go now. “I’ll let you get back to your game.”

“Steve,” Clint said, then hesitated.

“Yeah?” Steve prompted.

“You know that I’m going to do my best to not hurt Bucky, right?” Clint was looking him dead in the eye, and more serious than Steve had ever seen. 

“I know,” Steve said. “I also know that being with you makes him happy - sometimes, happier than even before the war. Even if I _didn’t_ like you - which I _do_ \- that would make you a good person in my eyes.”

Steve rubbed his hand across his eyes while saying, “I know that not every relationship is forever, and that something might go wrong between the two of you. But I know that if it does, it won’t be because you went out of your way to hurt Bucky. I trust you, Clint. Not just in the field, though I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to give me heart attacks, but with the heart of my best friend. You’re a good man, Clint.”

Clint bit his lip, and his eyes were shinier than they’d been a minute earlier. “Thanks, Steve. You don’t know how good that is to hear.”

“Then I’ll have to say it more often,” Steve said. Standing up, he motioned towards the controller. “Enjoy your game. If I see Bucky, I’ll let him know where to find you.”

Clint continued to stare at Steve for a moment before slowly picking up the controller. “Thanks,” he said. “But Steve? If you trust me? Really think about what I said about Sam. He’s a good guy, and there’s no need for you to isolate yourself away from a love life.”

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “People in love are the worst,” he grumbled. “Seeing things that aren’t there everywhere. Fine, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Clint said, and turned his game back on.

Steve smiled and left the room. Maybe Sam would want to go for a run.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of consensual non-consent (rape play or fantasy)

“Natasha, do you have time to talk?” Bucky asked, standing at Natasha’s door. She was a little surprised to see him there, but he seemed agitated, and if it was something he didn’t want to go to Steve or Clint about, it might be important, so she invited him in.

“Tea?” she asked, going into the kitchen to finish preparing her cup. 

“Sure,” he said. 

She surreptitiously pulled down a different blend than the one she’d used in her own cup. It wouldn’t drug Bucky in any way, but it might calm and relax him, and right now it looked like he could really benefit from that.

He sat quietly at the kitchen table as it steeped, turning down any sort of milk or sweetener. Finally, mugs in hand, she turned around and carried them over before sitting down across the table. “Okay, Bucky, what’s going on?”

“You have to promise me that you’re not going to tell Steve or Clint anything,” he said. 

“As long as no one is getting hurt,” she qualified. “At least, not in ways they don’t like.”

Bucky flushed a dull red, but he nodded. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you and not Steve,” he said. “I assume you know the kinds of things that Clint likes?”

“In general, yes,” she said. “But mostly, we avoid specifics. Is that something I’m not going to be able to do if we continue this conversation?”

“This isn’t so much about what _he’s_ into, if that helps?” Bucky said, his face still red.

“It does. Drink your tea and tell me what’s going on.” As if in demonstration, Natasha took a sip of her own, and Bucky echoed her. She nodded in satisfaction, and sat back, waiting for Bucky to get his thoughts in order.

“I keep having these dreams,” Bucky finally said. “They’re about Clint, and in them, he’s… he’s forcing me to do _things_. And I keep telling him to stop, and he keeps ignoring me.” His voice trailed off.

Natasha waited to make sure that he was done before she responded. She wasn’t even tempted to just blow it off as _just a dream_ , because she knew first hand how traumatic those types of dreams could be. She wasn’t going to just dismiss something that clearly had Bucky so worried that he’d come to her. “First of all, and most obviously, this is a dream, right? It doesn’t have any basis in reality?”

“Not with Clint,” Bucky said, his voice a little tremulous.

Nodding in acknowledgment, she ignored Bucky’s background as a particularly large elephant in the room. “Right. So, how do these dreams make you feel?”

“That’s the weird part. I’m not scared. It’s like I’m nervous, but so turned on it doesn’t matter. And I don’t know why being forced would be a turn on.”

“You’ve heard of rape fantasies or rape play?” Natasha asked, keeping her voice carefully neutral. She didn’t need Bucky feeling ashamed of something that had him concerned enough to come to her. 

“It was on the checklist that Clint gave me, but I didn’t really know what it meant. How can rape be _play_?” Bucky looked honestly confused, and for a brief second, Natasha wondered how he could still be that innocent when he’d been in a relationship with Clint for months.

“Because it’s not really rape,” she said. “It’s all negotiated ahead of time, with safewords and triggers laid out, so that the bottom can struggle and say no and fight it, even though he or she really wants it. But it’s safe, because if they say their safeword, then it all stops. The power there, just like in any good BDSM relationship, rests with the bottom.”

“Do you think this is something I want?” Bucky asked, his voice puzzled. “I mean, I don’t like being out of control these days, so I don’t think I do, but these dreams have been going on for at least two weeks.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t. Maybe the idea is hot but the reality would be too much. Maybe it would be the hottest thing ever. I can’t tell you that. I can tell you that it wouldn’t worry or scare Clint off, though I agree that you shouldn’t tell Steve.”

Bucky chuckled. “Can you imagine his reaction? He’d _freak_.”

“Probably, so best for the whole team that you not do that. When you two were fighting all the time, it was… less than pleasant for the rest of us,” she said. 

Bucky winced. “Sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t very fair.”

“More on him than you,” she said. “And not an issue anymore. So, let’s not worry about it. Getting back to your dreams; if you want to do some research on it, it’s also called consensual non-consent. Googling that might bring you to some sites that explain it better.”

“And if it’s something that I want?” Bucky asked, and then took a big drink of his tea, as if he was trying to hide the shaking of his hand. She ignored it.

“Then tell Clint. It won’t be the weirdest thing thing that he’s heard of. I don’t know how he feels about that kink in particular, but he’s not going to judge you for it, even if it turns out to be something that he’s not willing to do.” She leaned forward and touched Bucky gently on the arm. “Clint trusts you with his life. You can safely trust him with this.”

Bucky closed his eyes at her touch, and Natasha had a thought that he was probably more touch starved than anyone she’d ever met. And the only two people who really ever touched him were Clint and Steve. Well, it would be easy enough to start sneaking in small touches from her as well.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, picking up his cup and speaking into it. “I should have been able to figure this out for myself.”

“Bucky, it’s fine,” she said, leaving her hand in place. “Clint is the closest thing to a brother that I have. If you’ve got questions that you’re not comfortable asking him, and you don’t have another person to go to, I’m always happy to talk to you. You make him happy, and for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever see that again.”

“He still misses Phil, you know,” Bucky said, setting down his cup and not so incidentally moving back from her touch. “I think he always will.”

“I’d be more surprised if he didn’t,” she said. “He and Phil were together for a long time, and were well suited to each other. But don’t do this - don’t compare yourself to a dead man. Regardless of how Clint actually feels, you’re always going to feel like you’re losing that contest.”

He sat there and blinked at her for a moment. “How did you know I was comparing myself to Phil? I didn’t say that.”

Natasha laughed a little. “Bucky, it would be weirder if you didn’t. It’s only natural to wonder, and if I know Clint, he doesn’t actually talk much about what it was like to be with Phil, which leaves you reasonably curious. I’m happy to talk to you about that, too.”

He smiled, and for the first time in this conversation, it looked honest and unforced. “You really think he’s happy with me?”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” she said. “Drink your tea and talk to me about what else is going on in your life. Since you’re partners with my best friend, I should get to know you better.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky said.

“Pardon me?” she asked, surprised that he’d correct her. She’d forgotten the term they’d agreed on, but for most people she didn’t think it would be an issue as long as the relationship was being respected. 

“We decided on boyfriend. I’m Steve’s partner in the field usually, so that was too weird for us.”

Natasha nodded, thinking out loud. “You know, he referred to Phil as his partner. So that may be an effort to distance the two relationships in his head.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bucky said. “But it kinda helps to hear it.”

“Glad I can help,” Natasha said. “Any time. Now drink your tea and tell me what kind of non-kink things the two of you do.”

“He’s got me watching this show - “

“Not Dog Cops again,” she said, and the conversation went on.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More talking about CNC (this time between the boys), spanking, anal sex, realistic refractory periods, biting

Bucky spent some time on his computer, using the incognito mode that Sam had shown him. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't actually hide anything from JARVIS, and by extension, Tony, but the A.I., at least, had shown that he was capable of discretion. And Bucky didn't really want to go to a coffee shop or use a public terminal to look up these kinds of things.

Natasha had been right. Now that he had the right vocabulary, he found site after site explaining just about everything about consensual non-consent. Everything, that is, except how to broach it with his boyfriend. He knew Natasha said that Clint wouldn't freak, but Bucky didn't see how that could possibly be true. If Clint had come to _him_ with this particular fantasy, he'd have been scared shitless.

But the dreams were getting more frequent and more fleshed out. Eventually, he realized that if he wanted a full night's sleep ever again, without having to get up in the middle of the night to rub one out, he was going to have to talk to Clint. Whether he wanted to or not.

He waited till after they'd had sex and were settling into bed for the night. He didn't stay over every night, but it wasn't an unusual occurrence, so he didn't think that Clint was going to notice that he'd done it more often recently. Clint switched off the light, turned over, and wrapped an arm around Bucky, pulling his back to Clint's front.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Clint asked, and Bucky nearly choked on his own tongue.

When he finished coughing, he managed to spit out, "Why do you think something's wrong?"

Clint pressed his lips against the back of Bucky's neck, making him shiver. "Because you've been off in your own world for days. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. But I thought I'd let you know that I'd noticed that something's going on - give you an opening if you need one."

He'd been wondering how to bring this up with Clint, and now with an opportunity dropped in his lap, he felt like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He was quiet for long enough that Clint sighed and said, "It's okay, Bucky. You can tell me if you need to and when you're ready."

There was nothing about Clint's voice that sounded judgmental or upset, just open and accepting, and that let him finally say, "I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"Okay," Clint said, drawing it out but not saying anything else.

"It's about a kink," Bucky said. "But it's not one I'm sure you're into, and I don't want to scare you or make you think that what we have is bad."

"So I take it this isn't a kink that I've necessarily marked as either something I'm into or that I'm dead set against, because if it was one of those, this conversation would be going very differently," Clint said, his voice still calm and reasoned.

"Yeah. You didn't put anything at all down for this one. On the list it was called rape play? But I found more information by using consensual non-consent." Bucky winced a little. Put out there like that, it sounded so clinical, nothing at all like the burning lust that he'd been waking up with more and more often.

"So, are you fantasizing about having your way with me?" Clint asked, and there was a little hitch in his breathing. With the light out and his back to Clint, he couldn't really tell if the sound was good or bad.

"Actually, the other way around," he said, bracing himself for Clint's reaction.

For a long moment, there was silence, then Clint just said, "Oh," and let go of Bucky. Thinking to himself that he was never trusting Natasha again, Bucky started to flip over to get a hand on Clint when the light blinked back on. Clint didn't look upset. Clint looked... intrigued. 

"Do we have to have the light on?" Bucky asked plaintively. 

"If you can't talk to me about it, face-to-face, while we can see each other, it's not happening," Clint said, matter-of-factly. 

"You suck," Bucky said, but he didn't argue any further.

"Like a hoover," Clint said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Bucky really couldn't argue the point. "I don't know where to start," he said instead.

"At the beginning is always the smart place," Clint said. "So, you've been thinking about rape fantasies. Since you're bringing it up, I assume that you want to do more than think about it?"

"I don't know?" Bucky said. "I think about it, and it seems like something that would be really hot - hot enough that I keep dreaming about it. It even wakes me up sometimes, and then I have to go and jerk off, or I'm never getting back to sleep." Jesus, Bucky felt like he was never going to stop blushing, but now that the conversation was started, he couldn't seem to _stop_.

"Is it me that you're thinking about? Or someone else?" Thank god, Clint didn't sound upset, just curious.

"It's you," Bucky said, relieved that it was the complete truth. "Only not - you don't stop when I say no. You force me, and I end up getting off on it, even though I keep saying no."

Clint nodded. "First of all, you know that that would never, ever happen for real, right? Not only would you be able to stop me if I completely lost my mind one day, I would rather cut off my dick than hurt you with it in any way that wasn't for both of us, in a way that we both like."

"I know," Bucky said, relaxing a little. Okay, so Natasha had known what she was talking about after all - Clint was definitely not upset or stressed about this as far as Bucky could tell. "I know you won't hurt me - hell, I can barely get you to fuck me hard. But... we didn't have the words for it, before, and consent wasn't as big a part of the places I went. But I didn't always say yes, right? Sometimes, someone just liked the look of me, and that was all there was to it?"

A subtle tension ran through Clint's muscles at that, and he swallowed. "Bucky, these men. You didn't consider that rape?"

"What's the saying? Can't rape the willing?" Bucky said. "I know it's not like that anymore, and yeah, by today's standards it was pretty sketchy. But I was there to get fucked, they were there _to_ fuck - it all worked out in the end. And I never actually said no."

"Are you trying to recreate that feeling?" Clint asked.

And oh. Oh. Bucky hadn't thought about it from that point of view. "Maybe a little," he hedged. "I liked being wanted so badly that whether or not I said I wanted it was pretty much besides the point."

The tension eased back out of Clint, and now he just looked thoughtful. "You know that I'm never going to be strong enough to hold you down and force you to do something. Even faking it - short of disabling your arm, it just isn't going to be the same."

Bucky nodded. "I know. And sometimes - okay, my brain is fucked for wanting you to do this, I know it - it's because you've got a gun on me. We've done gunplay before, but in my dreams it feels so much more real. And I have to do what you tell me to do, or you're going to - " Bucky shrugged. In his dreams, Clint had never had to finish the threat, so he didn't actually know what it was.

"So let me walk through this, and see if I've got the fantasy straight," Clint said, and there was the Clint that Bucky lo - cared so much about. "I come in, I've got a gun, I point it at you and say? What? Bend over? Suck me? What do I make you do, Bucky?"

Unbelievably, Bucky's face got hotter. More embarrassingly, he was getting hard at the fact that none of this seemed to be fazing Clint in the slightest. "Sometimes one, sometimes the other," Bucky said. "I don't think it's the act so much as the fact that you're making me do it, and that it's for _you_. Whether I enjoy it, or even want it, isn't part of the picture."

"Okay," Clint said after a moment of obvious thinking. "This isn't going to happen tonight, obviously. It's not going to happen tomorrow. It's not going to happen at _all_ without a lot of negotiation and talking, things that we're starting to excel at, so go us!"

Bucky couldn't help chuckling at that. He knew that Clint liked talking about this stuff about as much as Bucky himself, even if Clint was better at it. "Fair enough. I realize that this has the potential to go south really fast, so I wouldn't want to do it unless we were completely on the same page," Bucky agreed.

"Right. So, we're going to be smart about it. You take a few more days, think about it when you're awake, maybe write down some notes, okay? And if, after that, you want to talk it out some more, you let me know." Then Clint slipped his hand down Bucky's chest to his cock, just grazing the shape of it. "I can tell that the thought turns you on, though," he said, with a grin. "Want to put that to some use?"

"Aren't you sore?" Bucky asked. While they hadn't exactly had a scene earlier, he'd fucked Clint pretty hard.

"A little, but it's the good kind of sore," Clint said. "Besides, I was thinking that I haven't been spanked in at least four days. You should probably get on that."

Bucky knew what Clint was doing. He was deliberately handing control back to Bucky, and he wasn't even being _subtle_ about it. It didn't matter, though, because it was working - now that Clint had said the words, all he could think about was spanking Clint's ass red and then fucking it.

Bringing both hands up, he cupped Clint's head and pulled him into a deep kiss, trying to express just how grateful he was that Clint was taking this so well. Within seconds, though, he was kissing Clint for its own sake, with Clint riding on his thigh. 

Breaking away was tough, but he pulled back to whisper in Clint's ear. "If you want a spanking, then I need to sit up."

Clint backed up so that Bucky could sit, his back at the headboard, his legs in front of him. Patting his thigh, he said, "You know what to do."

He knew that Clint could sometimes get a little clumsy when he was turned on, but he didn't realize that Clint was as apparently as horny as Bucky himself, until Clint's hand almost came down in a very bad spot. "Oof," Bucky grunted, grabbing at Clint and hauling him into position, sprawled across Bucky's thighs, ass up, his hard cock trapped between Bucky's legs.

There was no way this was going to be anything but fast and hard, and as his hand came down, Clint's ass started to bloom red handprints. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this," Bucky growled, slapping his ass and loving the way that he arched up into each blow. "Love it so much, don't you?"

"Fuck, yeah," Clint groaned, moving into Bucky's hand. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

"Only going to stop when I can't wait another second to fuck you," Bucky promised, and Clint whimpered.

There was something about this, about having Clint offer himself up like this, even after the conversation that they'd just had, that went right to the lizard part of Bucky's brain. It made him feel larger than life, as if he could do anything, _be_ anything just because Clint believed it was a good thing.

Suddenly, Clint cried out, his hips flexing jerkily, and Bucky could feel the sudden wetness from him coming. "Did you just rub yourself off, boy?" he growled.

"God, yes," Clint said, still sounding amazingly turned on. Bucky knew that he couldn't possibly get it up for a third time that night, so he started to shift, figuring that he'd get a blowjob, only to have Clint roll off of him and onto his stomach. When he pulled his knees up under him, the offer was unmistakable. 

"Clint, you don't have to," Bucky said. 

"I know," Clint said. "I want to feel you fuck me when I'm completely fucked out. Don't you want that? I'm so relaxed right now you're going to be able to slide right in."

This time, it was Bucky's turn to whimper, and he hurriedly got to his knees, grabbing the lube off the nightstand. He slicked up two fingers and slowly slid them into Clint, but Clint had been right - there was practically no resistance, and so as soon as he was sure that the lube was spread around, he pulled his fingers out and slid his cock into Clint.

Clint whined a little, high and under his breath, and Bucky paused. "Clint? You sure you're not too sore?"

Clint twisted around so that he could look at Bucky over his shoulder, and glared at him "Don't you dare stop," he said. "It feels _amazing_."

Reassured, Bucky set a slow, steady pace. Clint moved loosely, more like a rag doll than Bucky had ever seen from him before, and when he reached down between Clint's legs, Clint wasn't hard at all. He groaned at Bucky's touch, and shifted to push his hand away. "Just fuck me," Clint slurred out. "Don't worry about it."

Thwarted in his desire to touch Clint's cock, Bucky slid both hands under Clint's arms and pulled him upright, so that he was kneeling in Bucky's lap, Bucky's cock deep inside him. Clint reached up and wrapped an arm around Bucky's neck, twisting his head as far as he could so that their lips could meet in an awkward kiss.

Underneath Clint's solid weight, Bucky's hips continued to roll, a slow, deep fuck that felt like it could last forever. At the same time, he was rapidly becoming desperate to get off, to come deep inside Clint and mark him as _his_.

He knew that Clint didn't like marks where they showed, so he carefully picked a point on Clint's shoulder that would be covered by his sleeveless t-shirts, and bit down. That got him a groan from Clint that he could feel all the way down to his cock. Releasing the bite, he said, "One of these days you're going to let me bite you so the whole team can see. Please let me." He didn't mean right now, but god, he wanted to mark Clint as his so that it showed.....

Clint slowly tipped his head to the side, presenting his neck. "Go on," he said. "I want you to."

Bucky hesitated - one of the things that he and Clint had agreed about was not to make decisions during sex, but this seemed like a small thing, and he decided that he'd bite far enough down that a regular t-shirt would cover it. 

Then Clint clenched down hard around his cock, and his brain went offline. The next thing he knew, he was pounding up into Clint, his teeth clenched around a pinch of skin a whole lot higher than he'd meant. But since he was busy coming his brains out, he couldn't be assed to care.

The orgasm seemed to last forever, but eventually, even the best orgasms come to an end, and he gradually let go of Clint, letting him fold forward so that Bucky could pull out of him and clean him up.

The sheets were a wreck, but it wasn't the first time, so he grabbed a hand towel off the nightstand and used it to cover the wet spot before easing them both down. Then he realized that the light was still on, and from the soft snores coming from Clint, he was out. He couldn't reach the lamp from this side of the bed, and he was too comfortable and fucked out to get up. They could deal with the light being on for one night. Wasn't like they had to pay an electric bill, anyway. So he curled into Clint's arms, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingering, butt plug, mild humiliation, manhandling, public play, fisting

Clint wasn't surprised when Bucky didn't bring up their late night conversation in the cold light of day. He wasn't completely certain that Bucky ever would - it was possible that just telling Clint about it was enough for Bucky. And Clint certainly wasn't going to bring it up himself.

Bucky was at dinner with Steve. It was something that he did at least once a week as a way to keep Mother-Hen Rogers from getting bent out of shape again. While he was out, Clint watched horror movies and looked over Bucky's list again, just curious to see if there was anything new that they might try.

He noticed again that Bucky had made a note next to fisting that he had seen it done, and was curious to try it if Clint wanted to. While it had never been a particular interest to Clint, he wasn't particularly opposed to it. Getting there might be fun, even if they didn't manage it all the way.

Grabbing his phone, he took a picture of that part of the checklist, and sent it to Bucky with a "?". Then he set it aside and turned his attention back to watching the new _The Thing_ movie. He still wasn't sure about the prequel, but new or old, it was still pretty creepy.

He was lost in the movie, Edvard just having turned into some sort of hideous twisted monster, and so he didn't have any warning that Bucky was home. When the door opened behind him, he jumped and might have even made, well. He didn't scream. He was going to count that a win. His heart thumping in his chest, he twisted to see Bucky, who was standing just inside the door, glaring at him. Uh, oh. Maybe that text hadn't been the best idea?

Fumbling for the remote, he shut off the movie. "Something wrong?" he asked, trying to look innocent.

"You - you - you're a menace," Bucky said, and then he was laughing so hard he was wheezing. "You sent me _that_ text message just as dinner came and I practically choked. I think I have broken ribs from Steve pounding on my back."

"Sorry?" Clint couldn't help but giggle. It wasn't often that Bucky was this uninhibited about how he felt, and Clint didn't think he'd ever seen him laugh this hard before.

Bucky stumbled across the floor to bop Clint gently on the top of the head. "No, you're not," he said, still laughing.

"No, I'm really not," Clint admitted. "Why would I be when you react like _this_?"

"You dick." Bucky came around the sofa and flopped down on the sofa. Slowly he was catching his breath, but he still had a huge smile on his face. Clint couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Your dick," Clint said, twisting around and lying down so his head was in Bucky's lap. Looking up at him, he said, "So, thoughts?"

"Was that an invitation? Or a request for information? I'm pretty sure you've been in the scene long enough to know what fisting is." Bucky was still grinning, but he was squirming a little, too, and Clint could feel his cock, hard under the back of his head.

"Yes, I know what fisting is. I've never done it, but I'm not _opposed_ to the idea. That was an invitation to talk about it."

"You know, if I wanted to talk this much, I could date a girl," Bucky grumbled.

"Yeah, but then you'd have to give up my totally awesome cock, and you wouldn't want that," Clint said confidently. He knew that Bucky identified as bi, but sometimes he wondered, because he'd never even seen him checking out a woman outside of her being a possible threat. Aw, well, womankind's loss was his gain.

Bucky reached down and laid a palm across Clint's cock, which started to harden under the touch. "Nope, wouldn't want that at all. What is there to talk about, anyway? I'm curious. Either you are or you aren't. It seems pretty binary to me."

"Well, given that I've never had anything the size of your hand up my ass, any ideas on how we'd make that work?" Clint asked. He knew that he could have looked it up, but horror movies had seemed like more fun. Maybe he'd been wrong.

Bucky was giving him a very definite stink-eye. "I've seen that thing you call a plug. If you can fit that up your ass, you can fit my hand."

Clint knew _exactly_ which plug Bucky was talking about. It was one that Phil had actually bought as a joke, but sometimes it had been used on Clint. It wasn't something he could do fast, but yeah, he could take it. He wasn't sure it was quite as large as Bucky's hand, but it _was_ pretty big.

"Is this something you want to do here or at the club?" he asked, trying to think through logistics. 

"Depends - you've got the bigger exhibition kink. Would being watched make it easier or harder on you?" Bucky asked.

It was a serious question. Clint knew it was a serious question. And yet he couldn't help cracking up again. " _Harder_ on me?" he wheezed out.

Bucky smacked the top of his head again, lightly. "Come on, you know what I meant," he said. "Have you been drinking?"

"Sober as a judge," Clint said, holding up his hand as if giving an oath. "Okay, okay, I'll try to be serious." In an effort to be good, he sat back up and twisted around so that he was facing Bucky. "I think maybe the club? Easier clean up there, and, well, if there's a problem - "

"True, there will be people to help deal with it who aren't Steve," Bucky finished.

"Or worse, Tony," Clint said, and they both shuddered. 

"So maybe I should spend some time tomorrow afternoon getting you loose and open, and then have you wear that plug for a few hours? Take you to the club and see if you can take my hand?"

Clint squinted at Bucky. "You've thought about this more than you're admitting," he said, not a question in his head. "You had a plan already before I even brought it up."

Bucky shrugged. "I might have thought about it a bit, maybe did some reading. The internet is great, you know."

"Now who's being an ass?" Clint said rhetorically. "Sure, we can give it a try. And hey, if you can't get it in there this time, we can always try another day."

Leaning forward, Bucky gave Clint a sweet, lingering kiss. It turned heated fast, but before it could really go anywhere, Bucky pulled back, even as Clint chased after him. "Hey, where are you going?"

"If we're going to do this tomorrow, it's going to be a very long day for you. Probably shouldn't fuck you tonight," Bucky said, but at least his voice was tinged with regret.

Clint could see his point, but he still gave an exaggerated pout. "Blow jobs?" he asked.

Bucky brushed his fingers through Clint's hair. "Would it be weird if I said I'd rather save it for tomorrow?"

It wasn't like they fucked every night - Bucky might be superhuman, but Clint wasn't - but Clint still felt a little disappointed. Still, clearly this was a fantasy of Bucky's, and one a lot less emotionally fraught than the one they'd discussed the night before. He could give him this. 

He gave a heavy sigh, and said, "I _guess_ it's okay. I'll just sit here, alone, with my hard on and no one to play with it."

Bucky laughed again. "Don't worry, I'll give you all you can handle. Now, let's find something to watch that won't leave me jumping at nothing for days, okay?"

"Fine."

Bucky didn't stay the night, which didn't really surprise Clint. He wasn't sure that either of them had the self control to say no to any kind of sex if they were sleeping in the same bed. And they hadn't agreed on a time to meet, so the next day he just went about his normal day - target range, talking to Nat, time on the roof, back at the range. Tony had finally followed through with a range that put even Bucky, Nat, and Clint to the test, and Clint loved it beyond all reason.

"Agent Barton," JARVIS spoke as Clint gathered up his arrows. "Sergeant Barnes requests that you meet him at your apartment, at your earliest convenience."

Clint didn't know what that meant in Bucky-speak, but when Steve said it these days, it usually meant that he needed to get his butt to a meeting that he was missing. So he took just long enough to stow his equipment and took the elevator to his floor. When he walked in the door, Bucky was leaning against the back of the sofa, and Clint could just see the edge of the toy box sitting on the coffee table. "You still willing to do this?" Bucky asked, his voice hopeful.

"Sure," Clint said. "Let me shower first?"

"Go ahead," Bucky said. 

Clint hurried off, stripping out of his clothes as he headed towards the bathroom. There was part of him that wanted to rush, that wanted Bucky's hands on him in any way he could get it. And there was the part that wanted to take it slow, let it build.

He managed to not completely rush the shower, taking long enough to get thoroughly clean, before roughly drying off and heading back out to the living room without bothering to put any clothes on. Bucky was sitting on the couch, the large plug and a tub of extra thick lube on the table next to him. Patting his thigh, he said, "Up and over," with a cheesy grin.

It was a familiar and easy position to take, and Clint settled fairly quickly. From this angle, he couldn't see what Bucky was doing, but he heard the container being opened, and then there was cold lube, being applied directly to his hole. He tried, but he couldn't hold back the squeak of indignation.

"Cold?" Bucky said, faux-sympathetically. "Let me warm that up for you." And then there were two fingers sliding into him, and Clint felt like he was melting into the sofa. The thick lube carried a different sensation, Bucky moving even easier than normal, and Clint groaned as he was slowly and thoroughly finger-fucked.

He barely noticed when a third finger was added, there was so much lube, but when they pulled out, he couldn't help but tense up a little. That plug was awful big.

Then the tip of it was pressing against his hole, and Bucky murmured, "Breathe, Clint. Just breathe. Nice and slow and even." 

It took him a second to find the rhythm, but as he exhaled, Bucky would push the plug in just a little, and as he inhaled, Bucky would still. Little by little, his hole was forced wider to accept the plug, and oh, god, he didn't remember it ever feeling like this before. The few times that he and Phil had used this particular toy it had been... different, but Clint was fucked if he could think clearly enough to figure out how. Finally, in one long stretch, Bucky pushed the plug in firmly, and Clint felt himself tighten up around the neck of the plug. 

He felt amazingly full, like he couldn't move, except hat Bucky slapped him on the ass and said, "Okay, time to get dressed. We promised to help Bruce prep for dinner." 

Clint twisted around to look at Bucky, incredulous. "We did _what_?" he asked.

Bucky just gave him a cheeky grin. "Well, I promised. But he's expecting both of us in about ten minutes, so I suggest you get moving."

Grumbling, Clint shifted slightly, freezing as the huge plug moved inside of him. Before Bucky could say anything, he tried again, this time making it all the way off of Bucky's lap and standing up before he had to freeze again. "Yeah, not happening," Clint said. "You go help, and let me know when you're ready for us to go to the club."

Bucky tipped his head to the side and gave Clint a sly grin. "If you can't help in the kitchen, you certainly aren't going to survive a subway ride. Maybe we should just call this off."

Clint didn't know when he'd become invested in going through with this, but he wasn't about to let a challenge like that lie. So he gingerly made his way to the bedroom, and carefully, so carefully, got dressed. "I don't know how much help I'm going to be," he said honestly. "I've never had to move this much with this thing inside me."

Wrapping his arm around Clint's waist, Bucky pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure I'm doing most of the helping. You just have to sit there and look pretty for me. And, you know, eat dinner."

Clint turned to glare at Bucky, but Bucky just gave him an insolent smile. "It won't take long," he said, as if Clint was worried about saving time. "It's spaghetti, and the sauce is already done. When we get up there, Bruce will start the pasta while I put together the salad."

"Fine, let's get this over with," Clint said, and carefully, gingerly, made his way out of the apartment.

Dinner was tremendously awkward for Clint, and apparently amusing as fuck for Bucky, because every time Clint forgot and shifted wrong, he had to catch his breath. Steve kept eyeing them as if they were made of some sort of explosive, Natasha was smiling as if she had guessed what was going on, and Tony kept looking around as if he knew there was something that he was missing but he couldn’t figure out what.

Clint was sure that the food was great, but he couldn’t have guaranteed it, because he barely ate anything. Finally, though, Bucky apparently felt he’d been tortured enough, because he made the excuses for both of them and chivvied Clint out of the penthouse and the tower. 

When Clint would have turned to go towards the subway, though, Bucky shook his head. “Nah, not with that in you,” he said. “We’ll take an UBER.”

“Bucky, an UBER to New Jersey is going to cost a fortune,” Clint said, a little aghast.

“What else do we have to spend money on?” Bucky asked, and Clint had to admit that he had a point. So he didn’t argue as Bucky used his phone to summon a car. 

He was actually a little relieved when a late-model sedan pulled up, because hopefully the ride wouldn’t be as rough as the subway would have been. 

The UBER driver was chatty, and thank god Bucky was in the mood to talk, because he carried the conversation for both of them. Clint just focused on breathing and on not coming in his shorts, because smoother than the subway did not equate to _smooth_ , and every bump shoved the huge plug right up against his prostate.

By the time they finally got to the club, Clint had trouble getting out of the car because his legs wouldn’t take his weight. Bucky came around to his side of the car and looped his arm under Clint’s, pulling him out and up, and Clint finally found his balance. He had to shuffle a little when he was walking, but he made it through the club door.

Then he nearly killed Bucky, because he decided to get chatty with the twink on the door, and if something didn’t happen soon, _someone_ was going to die. Clint wasn’t sure if it was him or Bucky. He didn’t care, either.

Finally Bucky wished the guy a good evening and looped his arm around Clint’s shoulder, leading him inside. “Beer?” he asked as they passed the bar, and then laughed at Clint’s glare.

The sling was open, thank Christ, and Bucky led him there. “Okay, get naked,” he said.

It was excruciating to strip out of his clothes, every bend and stretch shifting the plug inside of him. He folded them, set them off to the side, and then eyed the sling. It was slightly higher than his ass, and he wasn’t looking forward to hopping up and then coming down on the plug.

With no warning, Bucky’s arms circled him, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, and then laid him gently in the sling. Clint hadn’t even known that being manhandled like that could be a kink, but oh, god, it was _hot_. He tried to tell Bucky, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. 

It didn’t seem to matter, because Bucky was busy strapping Clint in, so that he was spread out and at Bucky’s mercy. Then Bucky pulled the tub of lube out of his jacket pocket and set it on Clint’s stomach before taking his jacket off. 

As Bucky stepped away, Clint couldn’t help but watch. Bucky grabbed some gloves off the supply table and came back, dropping those on Clint’s belly as well. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’m ever going to get,” Clint said, trying to remember that this was Bucky and that he trusted him. Bucky was not going to hurt him in bad ways. Bucky would stop. It was okay.

Bucky started to glove up his flesh hand, and Clint stopped breathing.

Thankfully, Bucky noticed. “Clint, it’s okay. We can just get that thing out of you and do something else.”

Clint gasped in a big breath and shook his head. “No, just - I didn’t realize that putting on gloves could be sexy.”

Bucky grinned, and snapped the nitrile a little. “Let’s get that out and see what we’ve got, okay?”

“Uh, huh,” Clint said, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing.

The first thing he felt was Bucky’s metal hand on his thigh, just resting there, as if to ground Clint in who was doing this. Then the plug began to shift and twist, and he couldn’t help but make a soft cry. It wasn’t _bad_ , it was just intense.

Bucky didn’t stop moving the plug, but he did say, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. Then he lost himself in the sensation of the plug being rocked and twisted, and then it was being pulled out. The stretch of the plug sliding out was even more intense, so much so that Clint found himself breathless.

He had thought that Bucky would pull out the plug and then go right at him with his hand, but that wasn’t what Bucky did. Instead, he seemed to spend an eternity fucking Clint with the widest point of the plug.

It went from being okay to fucking amazing, and Clint started to whine as it would slide out, groaning as it went back in. He could feel how much easier the plug was moving, and knew it was because his hole was being stretched wide, giving in to what was being demanded of it.

Finally, the plug slipped all the way out, and Clint’s eyes flew open. After being stuffed so full for so long, being empty was just _weird_. “Clint?” Bucky said, and Clint tried to get his eyes to focus on Bucky's face.

“Yeah?”

“You ready?”

“As I’m going to get,” Clint said. “Go for it.”

Bucky opened up the tub of lube and slicked up the glove, a thick, glistening layer, and then there were fingers at Clint’s hole, sliding in. It wasn’t thick enough to be Bucky’s whole hand, he didn’t think, so he had to ask, “How many?”

“I’ve got three fingers in you,” Bucky answered. “Feel how easily they slipped in?”

Clint nodded. “I can handle more.”

The fingers slid out for a second, and when they came back, they were a lot thicker. “That’s four,” Bucky said, as they slid slowly in and out. With every push in, Bucky’s hand seemed to get thicker, and Clint realized it was because Bucky was getting closer to the palm of his hand each time. 

“There’s an audience,” Bucky murmured, still keeping up the slow in and out. “There’s at least ten people watch me open you up like this.” He slowly pulled his fingers back, till it felt like just the tips of his fingers were still inside. “Your hole is so open, they can all see a little bit of pink when I’m not filling you. It’s _gorgeous_.” 

Clint whimpered at Bucky’s words. He wanted to lift his head, look around, but it felt like it weighed a million pounds. “Next time, we do this at home so you can take pictures,” he said. “I want to see it.”

“We can do that,” Bucky said. “Ready for the next step?”

Nodding, he was surprised when Bucky didn’t pull out. Instead, he started to push deeper, and Clint cried out as he was stretched further than he’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s my hand up to my thumb,” Bucky said. “You’ve taken almost the whole thing. You’re doing so well.”

Bucky wasn’t moving his hand more than tiny little thrusts, but even those were enough to send what felt like shocks through Clint’s body. Clint started panting. He was turned on and scared and completely overwhelmed by what he was feeling. 

Then Bucky started to slide out, and a sound of negation was pulled straight out of Clint's chest. Bucky chuckled. “Only one thing left, Clint,” Bucky said. “Take slow breaths for me, boy.”

Clint did as he was told. Over the heavy sounds of his own breathing, he could hear the sound of Bucky's hand dipping into the lube, and then there were fingers back at his hole. Bucky didn’t ask him again if he was ready, and Clint was glad, because he wasn’t sure what his answer would have been.

Slowly, so very slowly, Bucky’s hand slid inside Clint, and he could _feel_ the point where his thumb started to slide in. He started to whimper - he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t! - then Bucky gave one more push, and Clint could feel his hole tighten down around Bucky’s wrist.

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky said, his voice full of awe. “You’ve got my whole hand inside you. How do you feel?”

_Now_ Bucky wanted to talk? Clint whimpered, but tried to answer the question. “So full, Bucky. So good. Can you - can you push a little deeper?”

“Just a little,” Bucky said, and matched actions to words. Clint cried out as he was filled even more. Everything felt perfect and too much, all at once.

Then Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around Clint’s cock, and Clint cried out harshly. He didn’t know if he could do this - if he could come with Bucky’s hand inside him. But Bucky didn’t seem to know that it was a problem, or maybe he didn’t care, because he started to say, “Come on, boy. Show me how you can come.”

It was like every nerve was firing all at once, and Clint couldn’t have told you which way was up. All he knew was that he was going to come, and come hard, and he couldn’t force his mouth to make words, just a loud grunt as he shot hard over Bucky’s metal fist.

He didn’t pass out, but it was a close thing. While he was sure that he’d probably come harder before, a time didn’t exactly come to his head right now. And honestly, it didn’t matter. 

Before he was quite ready for it, Bucky’s hand started to slide out, the sensation the strangest Clint had ever felt. He whimpered, but thankfully Bucky didn’t take it that he should speed up, because Clint didn’t know if he’d been able to take it.

Then the bulge of Bucky’s hand started pass through the ring of muscle, and he had to suck in a deep breath to keep from screaming. It still wasn’t painful, but Clint didn’t have the words to describe it. 

Finally, Clint’s hole was empty, and he realized that he was soaking wet from sweat and come. There was a snapping sound as Bucky stripped off the glove and then his clean hand came up to brush through Clint’s hair. “How do you feel, baby?”

“Since when do you call me baby?” Clint asked, the word penetrating. He didn’t dislike it, but it seemed weird for Bucky.

“When you’re doing something just because I asked for it and you’re beautiful while you do it. I can’t think of a better word for you.” Bucky sounded abashed, and Clint opened eyes he didn’t remember closing. Bucky looked as dazed as Clint felt, and he couldn’t help but try to lift his head to get a kiss. Bucky murmured, “I can stop if you want,” and then obliged him with a brief press of his lips.

“No, it’s good,” Clint admitted. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Bucky said. “Now, I’m going to check to make sure you’re not hurt, and then we’ll get you cleaned up. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Then I’m going to blow you,” Clint said, letting his eyes sag shut again.

“No need,” Bucky said, sounding a bit amused.

“But - “ Clint started to say, only to be interrupted.

“Clint, I came while I was buried to the forearm in your ass. That’s how hot this was,” Bucky said with a small laugh. “It’s a good thing I’m wearing dark jeans, because otherwise I’d look like I pissed myself.”

“Oh,” Clint said. It seemed a bit much to take in - that Bucky had come from fisting Clint - but he sure wasn’t going to argue. 

Bucky started to move around, checking his hole with a dry finger. “You’re pretty stretched, but I don’t see any blood,” he said, then he started to unfasten the cuffs holding Clint in place. As soon as he was loose, Bucky lifted him down again, holding him until he was steady in his feet. There were still a few people hovering around, and once he was dressed, a couple of them came by to tell him how hot it had been to watch.

Clint thanked them, but he only really had eyes for Bucky, who was cleaning the sling. As soon as he was done, he came over and helped Clint stand up, leading him over to the sofas and settling them both on one of them. “Where’s the plug?” Clint asked when he thought of it.

“Wrapped in paper towels and shoved in my jacket pocket. Don’t worry about it. We still need to get back to the tower, and for that, you need to be able to walk a straight line.”

Clint nodded. Bucky was right. He leaned his head against Bucky’s chest and closed his eyes. It was fine. Bucky would take care of getting him home.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consensual non-consent/rape play/rape fantasy, unsafe gun usage, face slapping humiliation, safeword usage

Bucky knew that Clint was trying to respect Bucky’s boundaries by not bringing up the rape fantasy again. But he kind of wished he’d be a little _less_ respectful, because the fantasies and dreams were getting intense again. While he didn’t want to push Clint into something he didn’t want, he didn't know what else to do, either.

He was starting to think that the only way to get it out of his head was to do it, though, so he waited until an afternoon with nothing much happening. “Hey, Clint?” he said.

Clint looked up from the comic book he was reading. “Yeah?”

“You remember that conversation we had?” Bucky hoped that Clint would say it, and he wouldn’t have to.

“Which one? We talk a lot,” Clint said, and the little shit knew exactly what he was doing, and he was going to make Bucky say it. Fuck.

“The one about the rape fantasy,” Bucky muttered, staring at Clint’s hands.

Clint’s hands set aside the comic book, and then came towards Bucky’s face, tipping it up so that he could meet Clint’s eyes. They were soft and calm, promising no judgement and an open mind. “Are you ready to talk about it?” Clint asked.

“I think so,” Bucky said. “I know I can’t keep avoiding sleep.”

“I'd wondered,” Clint said. “Figured you’d tell me if it was something I could do something about.”

“You could have asked,” Bucky said, knowing that he sounded petulant.

“No, I couldn’t,” Clint said, voice still calm. “This one is in your court. Remember, if you can’t talk about it, I’m not going to even consider doing anything about it.”

“You still suck,” Bucky said, then he sighed. “I know. You’re right. Doesn’t make you suck any less.”

“You know, wherever Phil is? He’s laughing his ass off at me right now, because he used to be the one in my shoes,” Clint said. “He was always trying to get me to talk about shit, and I was always trying to get out of it. He’d find it hysterical that I had a boyfriend whose arm I have to twist to get to talk.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Yeah, that seemed a little like karmic justice, even if he was the one whose arm was being twisted. 

“So, the dreams are getting bad again. And they’re more vivid,” Bucky said after a pause. 

“And in these dreams…” Clint trailed off, clearly expecting Bucky to fill in the blank.

“You’re holding a gun on me. And forcing me over face down so that you can fuck me.” Bucky was proud of himself. His voice only cracked once.

“So it’s definitely fucking now?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. Almost always. And I try to talk you out of it, and I try to beg you to stop, and you just ignore me. Eventually, I turn over, and then you just fuck me, hard, leaving me hanging.” Bucky said it all in a rush, trying to get it all out before he could chicken out.

“Okay,” Clint said. “Is this something that you want to actually try? Or do you just want me to talk you through the fantasy and see if that takes care of it?”

Bucky had never thought of that as an option, but when he thought about it, he realized that it wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t be _enough_. It wouldn’t be _real_. “I don’t - I need it to feel like it’s actually happening,” he said apologetically,. “I’m sorry - I know this is a hell of a thing to ask for.”

Clint was already shaking his head. “Hey, no apologies. It’s not my kink, but it’s obviously one that has its roots in you deep. That makes it important. And it’s not on my no-go list. We can make this work.” Clint’s hand wrapped around Bucky’s and squeezed. “You know, though, that you can make it stop any time, right? I’m not doing this without your safeword.”

“I can’t imagine that I’ll need it,” Bucky said. “I mean, if you could just get inside my head, you’d see how _real_ it feels, and how _amazing_ , even while it’s terrifying.”

“Doesn’t matter what you imagine right now,” Clint said firmly. “You have to promise me that you’ll safeword if it turns into something you can’t handle. There is nothing wrong with that, even if right now it feels like all you want.”

Bucky sighed. “Fine. I promise. Won’t need it though.”

“Good,” Clint said. “A few more questions about it, okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, “Like I have a choice.”

“Nope,” and Clint’s voice sounded cheerful again. “That’s what this is all about. So, in your dreams, do I use lube? Any effort to keep from damaging you?”

“I don’t - I don’t dream about being stretched by you, but it doesn’t feel like being fucked dry, either? I don’t know - it’s dream logic.”

“Fair enough. Just making sure that that isn’t part of it,” Clint said. “Anywhere in particular? Are you always asleep when it starts or do I tackle you somewhere when you’re awake?”

“It’s here, and yeah, I’m always asleep. I think my brain is smart enough to realize that I’d notice you sneaking up on me with a gun if I was awake.”

“Also a true statement. Is there anything in particular that I say? Any particular phrases that stand out?"

Bucky shook his head. "The specifics change every time, but it's always about how I owe you, how I belong to you. Sometimes you call me names, usually you insult me."

Clint nodded. "Any thing I _shouldn't_ say? You know I've got issues with some kinds of humiliation being used on me."

"Not that I know of. We're not exactly having a conversation, and it's not like we're talking about my competency in the field. It's mostly about how you're going to fuck me, whether or not I like it," Bucky said, just the thought twisting in his belly like a snake.

"One last question,” Clint paused, and then asked quietly, “Is the gun the only non-sexual violence? Or do I hurt you in other ways?”

Bucky swallowed, his throat feeling like it was lined with glass. “You rough me up enough to make a point, but it’s not like you're pistol whipping me or beating the crap out of me.”

Clint looked relieved, but fell silent for a moment, and Bucky waited for him. When he finally started to talk, his voice was firm. “Okay, so this isn’t going to happen tonight, This isn’t going to happen in the next day or two,” he said. “But if you’re _absolutely sure_ that you want me to try to do this, I’ll try.”

The tension that had been running through Bucky at just the thought of having this conversation drained away at Clint’s words. “I’m sure,” he said. “I’m sure, Clint. I need this.”

“Then okay, “ Clint said. “I’ll take care of it. But how about some blowjobs in the meantime?”

And it was easier than Bucky had thought to turn it over to Clint for him to make the decisions about this. He knew he was safe with Clint, he knew that Clint would do his best to make sure that Bucky got what he asked for. 

After three days, though, he started to tense up, wondering as they went to bed if it would happen tonight. After five, he wondered if Clint had been lying when he promised. Then on night six, he was woken up by a slap across the face, and when he opened his eyes, startled, he was staring right down the barrel of a very large handgun.

“Clint?” he said, his throat dry. “Clint, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Clint backhanded him. It wasn’t as hard as Clint was capable of hitting, but it went right to Bucky’s gut. “I’m horny. You’re going to put out, right now.”

“Come on, Clint,” Bucky said, finding himself falling into the role that he’d assigned himself. “You don’t want to do this. Put the gun down, and we can go back to sleep. Or I can blow you?”

Clint cocked the gun, and Bucky started to get more nervous. _Logically_ there was no way that Clint was pointing a loaded gun at him. He _knew_ that. And yet, years of instinct that told him to treat every gun as loaded unless he’d personally unloaded it was enough to keep him frozen. “Clint, stop this,” he said, but there was no force behind it. 

“Now why the fuck would I do that? I roll over for you often enough. You should do it when I want it.” Clint’s voice wasn’t just firm, it was _mean_ , a low growl that made all the hair on Bucky's arm stand up. “Now, on your stomach and get those legs spread.”

"I'm not going to do that," Bucky said, trying to sound like he actually meant it, and missing by a mile. "You're going to put the gun down and then we can talk about this." 

Clint smiled, but there was no humor in it, just teeth. Then he reached out and put the barrel of the gun to Bucky's forehead. "Stop stalling, Barnes," he said. "I've told you what to do. If I have to tell you again, you're going to really regret it."

The whimper that tore from Bucky's throat was pure terror, but at the same time, he was so turned on that he couldn't even begin to think of the ways that he could disarm Clint, bring this to a stop. Instead, he said, "Okay, okay, just don't hurt me," and slowly started to turn over.

"Faster, slut," Clint growled, and this time the blow fell on his shoulder. Again, it wasn't as hard as Clint was capable of hitting, but this time he was fairly certain there was going to be a bruise. No longer stalling, he finished turning over, and spread his legs wide. There was nothing for a long moment, then Clint said, "You know what? I think you'd look better up on your knees. Move it."

Both terrified and out of his mind with lust, Bucky struggled to get his knees under him, his face pressed to the bed. His hands clenched at the bedding. "Please, Clint, don't do this," he begged. "Don't - "

"Christ, you never listen," Clint said. "I'm going to fuck your slut ass, and there's nothing you can do about it. Now shut your whore mouth - the only thing I want to hear is you moaning as I fuck you."

The head of Clint's cock pressed against his hole, and some tiny voice inside Bucky's head was relieved to notice that it felt slick. And then Clint started to push, and with no prep, it felt like Bucky was being split in half, ripped open, and he cried out, unable to even begin to keep the sounds inside.

"Oh, yeah," Clint groaned, and there was something about the sound, something that pinged some part of Bucky in a way that he hadn't expected. Suddenly this wasn't scary-but-hot. It was just _terrifying_ , and he started to struggle for real, trying to get out from under Clint. But he couldn't move forward because of Clint's weight on his back, he couldn't turn over, he couldn't _breathe_.

Clint clearly didn't realize that this wasn't Bucky's fantasy anymore, because he was still pushing into Bucky, and somehow, from somewhere, Bucky's brain locked onto one word. "Red," he sobbed out, not even sure that he was loud enough for Clint to hear. "Red, red, red."

Within seconds, Clint had pulled out, saying, "It's okay, Bucky. It's okay." Clint's weight disappeared off of him and he heard the sound of the gun being dropped onto the floor. Some distant part of his brain was horrified at the mistreatment of a weapon. The rest of him was occupied with turning over, putting the wall at his back, his hands up between him and Clint.

Clint shifted so that he was sitting back on his heels, his hands up and open. "It's okay, Bucky. It's over, you're safe," he said, his voice calm and soothing. "It's okay. It's okay."

Suddenly it hit Bucky - he'd stopped Clint. And Clint _had_ stopped, just like he'd promised. He wasn't trying to change Bucky's mind, or continuing after Bucky had safeworded. Instead he was making himself look as non-threatening as possible, not touching Bucky at all. As that sank in, he found himself crying.

He was horrified at the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn't stop them. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest that he didn't even know had been there. Clint continued to whisper that everything was okay, that Bucky was safe. 

Needing the contact, Bucky reached out towards Clint, who slowly, hesitantly, came closer. As soon as he was in reach, Bucky grabbed him and pulled him close, burying his face in Clint's neck as he continued to cry. 

Clint's hands were on his back, rubbing soothingly down over the muscles, still whispering soft nonsense. Slowly, Bucky's tears dried up, and he tried to pull away, embarrassed. "Shh," Clint whispered. "It's okay," He loosened his grip, making it clear that whether he continued to be held was up to Bucky. 

On the one hand, he was humiliated. After swearing up and down that he wanted this, he hadn't been able to go through with it. More than that, he'd cried over Clint doing exactly what he'd said he'd do. He had _no reason_ to cry. That part of him wanted to crawl under the bed and never come out again.

But there was the other part that was taking comfort in Clint's whispers and soft touches. "Bucky? You don't have to say anything," Clint said. "Just nod or shake your head. Are you injured? Do I need to check you to make sure I didn't tear you?"

And that broke Bucky all over again. He was acting like a child, and instead of judging him, Clint was concerned over whether he'd been _hurt_? He started crying again, burrowing even closer to Clint. He did manage to keep enough presence of mind to shake his head, because he wasn't hurt. He wasn't even very sore - it hadn't lasted long enough to do anything resembling damage.

"That's good," Clint said, his hands still stroking Bucky softly. "I'm glad you're not hurt. You just let it out, Bucky. I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave, okay?"

More than anything else, that helped Bucky get control over the tears. As they dried up, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Clint."

"It's okay, Bucky," Clint said, his voice soft and calm. "I'm not mad. Can you tell me what happened? Or do you want to just lie here for a while?"

"I don't know what happened," Bucky said, his throat as raw as if he'd been swallowing razor blades. "One moment it was perfect, and then it was just... wrong. I don't know what happened." He knew he wasn't making any sense, and he didn't know how to explain the terror and then the relief.

"You don't need to know, Bucky," Clint said. "Can I just clean you up real quick? And then we'll get under the blankets and if you can figure it out, you can tell me. And if you can't, that's fine too. I'm not going to make you talk about it tonight if you can't."

Bucky clutched at Clint for a moment, and then forced himself to release his grip. Clint reached over to where they kept baby wipes and washcloths. Grabbing one of the latter, he wiped Bucky's face clear of tears, brushing a quick kiss over his mouth - just there and gone.

But when Clint would have gone to clean between Bucky's legs, Bucky pulled away. He couldn't handle being touched there right now, even if he was slick with lube and it was going to mean they'd have to change the sheets in the morning. Clint didn't argue. He just slid the blanket and sheet up over Bucky, turned off the light, and climbed in next to him.

He lay close, not quite touching but not pulling away either. The choice was clearly Bucky's and while Bucky was sure in the light of day, he'd appreciate the consideration, right now he just wanted to be held. So he rolled over, rested his head on Clint's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

His heart was no longer hammering in his chest, and Clint smelled and felt familiar, relaxing. Gradually, in the dark, he began to whisper. It was broken and disjointed, and he wouldn't have been able to begin to tell anyone else what he'd said. 

But he knew that for the first time in seventy years, his "no" had actually meant something. Even Steve - Steve would do stuff for "Bucky's own good," and eventually, Bucky would have to admit that Steve had been right, but it meant that he never got to actually say no and have it respected.

Clint had given him that, and as he whispered out his fears and wants and needs, he realized that while on the surface, the want had been about being helpless. Under that, though, was the hope? Belief? That Clint would do exactly as he had done, and given something that he hadn't even realized he needed.

Gradually, his eyes grew heavy, and his words became even more disjointed. But Clint never let go, never pushed him away or did anything other than make comforting sounds. And it was so good, to know that he could sleep safely, and know that he never needed to worry about Clint not hearing his "no."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings

Steve didn't know what had happened the night before, but Bucky and Clint both looked like hell. Bucky's eyes were red and swollen, and Clint looked like he was a little worried that Bucky might shatter if someone looked at him wrong. And if that happened, Steve was pretty sure that Clint would kill that person without blinking.

He started to say something. He wasn't sure what, but this was not good, and he wasn't going to stand by and do nothing when his best friend looked worse than he'd looked in months. But as he opened his mouth, Natasha placed her hand over Steve's.

Looking at her, she shook her head and mouthed the words, "Leave it."

It was a little disturbing that she'd been able to read what he was thinking so clearly, but he knew that both Bucky and Clint considered her a friend. So why wasn't _she_ saying something?

Her hand tightened, almost to the point of actual pain, and he grunted a little. Fine. He'd keep his mouth shut for the moment, but if Bucky continued to look like death, he was going to say something, Natasha or no Natasha.

He scooped up some of the oatmeal from the pan and brought it over to Bucky, setting the bowl in front of him, along with the brown sugar and milk, before sitting down at his own place. Bucky wasn't exactly quick to grab the food, but he did fix the oatmeal the way he did normally and start eating. 

As he did, Clint reached out and placed his hand on Bucky's back, right over his shoulder blade, where Bucky's torso was reinforced with metal. Bucky turned his head to look at Clint, and the smile that he gave him was shy, not as bold as normal. But it was also unmistakable. 

Steve had seen that look on Bucky's face before - usually when he had been looking at Clint, Steve realized. He wondered a little what it meant, but as Bucky continued to eat his oatmeal, he realized that it was pretty obviously love. The only way it would be any more obvious was if Clint's face had been encircled by little cartoon hearts and cupids.

Then Steve realized that Clint had a similar look in his eyes, and he relaxed a little. He'd never been sure about this relationship, even when he'd given up on trying to argue Bucky out of it. But, regardless of whatever had happened the night before, clearly it hadn't done anything but bind them even closer together.

And he thought that maybe that was a good thing, after all.

He still didn't say anything, but he pushed the tray of the breakfast pastries towards Clint. There was one chocolate pastry left, which he knew that was Clint's favorite. 

Clint shot him a sharp look, as if he was taking Steve's measure, then gave him a small smile and took the pastry, biting into it with every evidence of relish. "So, what's on the schedule today?" Clint said through his mouthful of chocolate.

"I don't know," Steve said. "I was just thinking that we might laze around the penthouse and watch movies. Tony's been after me to watch something called _The Princess Bride_."

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father - " Clint said, only to have Tony come into the kitchen and say "Prepare to die," with him.

Bucky and Steve looked from one to the other in confusion, then at each other. Bucky arched an eyebrow, and Steve knew that it was all going to be okay.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rough body play, oral sex, masturbation

Bucky and Clint didn’t have anything in particular planned for the club. Bucky had just had a bit of cabin fever, and when he suggested the club to Clint, Clint had been all in favor.

Neither of them bothered to check to see if there were any special events that night, other than to make sure it wasn’t closed for some reason. The first sign that this might not have been the best idea was when they realized that there were a bunch of people in either formal dress or all leather.

Bucky looked at Clint and raised an eyebrow, asking silently if they should leave. Clint shrugged. “It’s been a while since we’ve been here,” he said. “I’d kind of like to see if we see anyone we know, and I don’t really want to go all the way back to the tower without playing if we don’t have to.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky said. They grabbed beers from the bar and sat at one of the tables for a while. A couple of people stopped by to say hello, but more hurried straight past, heading into the play space. Bucky wasn’t sure about Clint, but he was getting more and more curious as the minutes ticked by, and when Clint had finished his beer, Bucky stood, grabbing the bottles and tossing them in the recycling bin before holding out a hand for Clint to take.

Hand-in-hand, they headed to the back, where it became obvious where everyone was headed. The back right corner of the space had been cleared of any bondage furniture, and folding chairs had been set up. The set up looked like something that could have come straight from Vegas, if Vegas had a BDSM-themed wedding chapel.

Bucky glanced at Clint, who nodded at a space along the wall, where there were several other people standing. They hadn’t been invited, but the club wasn’t closed, so he figured that they didn’t mind witnesses for whatever was happening.

Two women came out from behind a curtained off space. They were both dressed nicely, but not particularly outrageously, just nice dresses. As everyone watched, they walked to the space in front of all the chairs, and then one of the women, a thin brunette, went to her knees. Her gaze was on the other woman, and the adoration she felt was obvious enough that it was practically coming out of her pores. 

The other woman, a heavier black woman, rested her hand on the brunette’s face, a gentle caress. A third woman joined them, and as she started to speak, Bucky realized that they were watching a collaring ceremony. He glanced over at Clint out of the corner of his eye, seeing that Clint’s own eyes were suspiciously shiny and soft, so Bucky settled in to watch.

It wasn’t as formal as a wedding, but no less heartfelt for that. When the top fastened the chain around the brunette’s neck, there were murmurs of approval from the audience. From what Bucky could see, it was a necklace with a heart-shaped lock on it, and was delicate enough that it could be brushed off as just a gift for those who wouldn’t understand the meaning. 

As the top bent over and pressed a kiss to the top of the bottom’s head, the assembled audience broke out into applause, and both Bucky and Clint joined in. The crowd broke up, the couple going back behind the curtain, and everyone else to areas around the club.

Clint and Bucky wandered over to the sofas, plopping down on one. Clint turned so his back was to Bucky, leaning back into his embrace. “That was nice,” Bucky said, trying to suss out how Clint felt about it.

“Yeah,” Clint said, softly.

“You and Phil - “ 

“Nah,” Clint answered. “Never saw the need. We knew what we meant to each other. We didn’t really need a ceremony to make it public. Why? Do you want to?”

Bucky thought about it a bit. “It would be hard to decide which of us would wear a collar,” he said after a while. “We switch off sometimes.”

“True,” Clint said, his voice fairly neutral. “But you’re in charge more than you’re not. And I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted it.”

“Eh, we can think about it.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Clint’s neck, loving the way he shivered at the touch. “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for? We did bring the toy bag, so we’ve got some options.”

Clint tipped his head back so that he was looking at Bucky upside down. “You remember our first scene?”

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever forget. It was the first time that he’d gotten to touch Clint, and at the time he thought it was just going to be a one off. How wrong he’d been. “Yeah. My bare hand?”

“Yeah. Call it nostalgia, but I could go for that.” Clint stretched out a little, slipping down so that the back of his head was pressed into Bucky’s cock, which was getting very interested in what was happening.

“Sure,” Bucky said, a little breathless. “If that’s what you want, we can definitely do that. In fact, if you don’t want me to fuck you on the sofa, we should go do that right now.”

Clint giggled and pointed at the sign hanging right above one of the other sofas. It said _Absolutely no sex or scenes in the social areas. Thank you._ “Can’t,” Clint said. “But can’t leave you hanging, either. Let’s go.” He rolled to his feet, and Bucky took a deep breath before following suit.

They went to one of the crosses and Clint stripped off slowly, methodically. They’d been together long enough that he knew that Clint used getting undressed to put him in the mindset for whatever he was getting ready to do. He used the same time to strip out of his jacket.

He’d also learned that no one was going to comment about the arm, so he was wearing short sleeves, and once Clint was naked, his clothes neatly folded on the other side of the cross, he turned to face Bucky, eyed him, and wiggled his eyebrows with a huge grin on his face. “You ready for me?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, you going to give it to me?” Clint asked, but his voice wasn’t bratty at all, just curious.

“As much as you can handle.” Bucky held up his hand and gestured for Clint to turn around.

Clint did so, settling himself solidly and grabbing a good hold of one of the upright arms. This time, Bucky knew exactly how Clint liked it, and there was no question of going too soft. 

Clint’s back started to turn red under his hand, and then faint shadows of bruises started to appear. At that point, Bucky transferred his attention to Clint’s ass, beating it until Clint’s hips were flexing with each blow, practically fucking the wood. Small gasps and groans were falling from Clint’s lips, and every one of them made Bucky feel like he was ten feet tall and able to do anything.

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me,” Clint was chanting softly, and when Bucky shifted slightly, he could see just how hard Clint was. 

There was no question that he was just as hard, but there was enough of a difference in their heights that a fuck would be practically impossible without moving to the sling, and he didn’t want to walk that far. 

Instead, he grabbed Clint by the hip and turned him around as Bucky slid to his knees. Clint was still wobbly from being spun as Bucky took his cock in his mouth down to the root, and Clint’s knees nearly gave out on him. Bucky braced him against the cross and continued to suck with all he had.

One of Clint’s hands tangled in Bucky’s hair, pulling it lightly, and Bucky groaned. Oh, god, this was going to be fast.

He sucked as hard as he could, mouth moving almost frantically. He was desperate to taste Clint’s come, to know that he’d pushed him that far that fast. His flesh hand came up, squeezing Clint’s balls gently, and then he had the come that he’d wanted, filling his mouth and dripping down his chin.

He continued to suck, softer now, until Clint made a soft sound of discomfort and pushed him away. Only then did he release Clint’s cock.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” Clint said, but he sounded completely blissed out, and Bucky was far too desperate to wait. Instead, he stood up and released his erection, his hand moving furiously over heated flesh.

One, two, three strokes, and he was coming hard, striping Clint from waist to nipples in his come. As soon as he was finished, he leaned forward, crushing Clint’s lips in a deep, avid kiss; one hand rubbing the come into Clint’s skin so that he’d smell like Bucky all the way home.

And as they stood there, he thought idly to himself - maybe not a collar. Maybe a wedding ring. Steve would understand that better, anyway.


End file.
